


Consequences

by Samantha Quinn (zarabithia)



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-14
Updated: 2006-03-13
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 98,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/Samantha%20Quinn
Summary: Two Vulcan illnesses wreak havoc on the lives of Trip, T'Pol, Soval, and the crew of the Enterprise. (02/17/2004)





	1. History And Logic

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers, 1.01-1.02 "Broken Bow," 1.05 "Unexpected," 1.08 "Breaking The Ice," 1.14 "Sleeping Dogs," 1.17 "Fusion," 1.20 "Oasis," 2.05 "A Night In Sickbay," 2.14 "Stigma," 2.15 "Cease Fire," 2.20 "Horizon."  
  
If you've watched Voyager's "Blood Fever," you will see familiar elements in this story. Think of it as an attempt to reconcile "Blood Fever," 2.14 "Stigma," and "Amok Time."  


* * *

As Ambassador Soval took his seat at the conference table, he noticed the curious look of the Vulcan doctors already seated on the opposite side.

"Is there a problem, Vortik?" Soval asked, addressing the highest ranking doctor. Soval realized too late that his voice betrayed him by flaunting his emotion . Another sign that the time draws near, Soval noted to himself.

"No, there is no problem, Ambassador," the Vulcan doctor replied. "We are simply uncertain as to why your presence is required here."

"Indeed," the Vulcan seated to the left of Vortik agreed. "We were under the impression your duties of monitoring the human star ship would have sufficiently occupied your time."

Before Soval could reply, another presence joined them at the table and answered in Soval's place. "The Ambassador joins us due to his high rank and his experience with humans. Do not forget, gentleman, that your actions have involved the human Captain. For that reason, the Ambassador has been briefed on the events that transpired between Captain Archer, Sub-Commander T'Pol, Doctor Yuris, and yourselves." The voice, Soval noted, belonged to Sumarek, chief of the Vulcan justice department.

The doctors did not question Sumarek's remarks. Although crime was virtually non-existent on Vulcan, the justice department was in charge of not only making certain that remained the case, but also maintaining order in intergalactic incidents. The recent incident with Sub-Commander T'Pol's illness fit both categories.

"I see," Vortik responded, with a respectful nod towards Sumarek. Turning towards Soval, he added, "We can only hope the children can do without their caretaker for the duration of this meeting."

"If that is your concern, Doctor, perhaps it is best if we get started right away so that the caretaker can return to his post," Soval rejoined, gritting his teeth as he did so. The anger coursing through his body would have caused him alarm, had he been in complete control of himself at that moment.

Sumarek ignored the conversation between the two of them, and took his own seat at the head of the conference table. "I trust we all know the reason we are here. However, to clear up any confusion you may have," with this, he looked in the direction of the Vulcan doctors, "I will briefly review. Not only has the incident with Sub-Commander T'Pol raised concern because it involved outworlders, the justice department has become the cause of scrutiny by several of our alien allies due to the increased vocalization of discontent by the former Doctor Yuris."

"Discontent?" asked Vortik. "By a man castigated from Vulcan society for acts of blasphemy against Surak's teaching?"

Before Sumarek could respond, the doctor seated to the right of Vortik voiced his opinion. "Yes, why should any of us heed the voice of that ignominy?"

Soval listened as the events transpired, with his hands placed firmly in his lap. There was no other logical locale to place them that would not reveal how badly they shook. Soval was still able to use his Vulcan control to maintain stillness in his shoulders, but his hands displayed movement, regardless of what he willed them to do. Although he did not immediately wish to do so for fear- Vulcans should not FEAR!- that his voice would betray him, Soval knew it was his place to enter the conversation.

"I do not believe the concern lies with Yuris, or other Vulcans for that matter, gentlemen," Soval stated.

No one could have doubted the ability of Vulcans to glare if they had been in the room at that moment. "I do not comprehend," Vortik stated. "If Yuris is not a concern, nor is the population of Vulcan, then why are we here?"

You do not understand because you have the intelligence quotient similar to that of an ameba, Soval thought to himself. Soval let out a deep breath before continuing. "Our allies have heard Yuris' complaints. They do not understand the magnitude of what he has done. To them, we are behaving quite illogically and hypocritically by condemning a member of our society over an illness."

"Our methods are not the concern of outworlders," Vortik stated coldly. "Or has such interaction with humans made your Vulcan blood turn red, Soval?"

Sumarek intervened before Soval could respond. "This is not a matter concerning Soval personally, Doctor," he reminded the physician. "However, both the Justice Department and the High Command are concerned with the results. There are some high ranking members of our society who have expressed lately that perhaps our actions have been lacking in logic."

Soval nodded his head in agreement, and his shoulders ached to twitch as well. Fortunately, the attention of the doctors was focused entirely upon Sumarek.

"Such as whom?" Vortik demanded.

"T'Mir, Sulan, T'Pau," Soval replied.

"Of course T'Pau sympathizes. She has always been leaning towards the radical extreme of Vulcan logic," was Vortik's reply.

"Indeed," the Vulcan seated on Vortik's left agreed. "I would not be surprised to discover she herself was a melder."

Sumarek's eyes flashed briefly. Soval noted that the anger reflected in them must have been a feature on his Vulcan ancestors before the time of Surak.

"And if she is a melder, should we stigmatize her as well?" Sumarek demanded. "Even such a well respected, high ranking official with T'Pau's numerous accomplishments?"

"Yes," Vortik said simply.

"Where is the logic in that?" Sumarek demanded.

"Are you not familiar with the history of melders?" the Vulcan on Vortik's right spoke up.

"I must confess that I am not. Please enlighten me, Doctor," said Sumarek.

Soval listened as the doctor related the story he had heard numerous times before. In the time after Surak, a Vulcan named Sorik had promoted the art of melding amongst the planet. As a result, mind melds had been a treasured part of Vulcan heritage. Shortly before his death, however, Sorik rejected Surak's teachings as Sorik became consumed with the privileges brought by his own power. During his last pon far, Sorik was said to overcome a Vulcan prince, enforce a meld upon him, and transmit his own pon far into the young Vulcan.

"The Prince's body was not prepared for the physiological changes brought about by pon far as it was not his time. As a result, he died. Melding was forbidden on Vulcan from that time forth," Vortik finished.

Sumarek looked at Vortik for a moment, then turned to look at Soval. "Were you aware of this story, Ambassador?"

"I have heard it. I believe it to be nonsense. The notion that someone can give someone pon far is ridiculous and scientifically impossible," Soval replied. "Obviously, something else was responsible for the death of the Prince."

Vortik and his fellow doctors looked at him. "You are suggesting then, that we allow these melders to pollute Vulcan society?" Vortik asked incredulously. "They are a danger to all of Vulcan and must not be allowed to exist."

Again, the doctor was trying his patience. Not a wise course of action considering Soval's current physiological state. "I am simply of the opinion, Vortik, that it is unwise to risk interstellar incident over belief in a fictional story that has somehow managed to become known as history."

Sumarek intervened again, before Vortik could say anything in reply. "The decision will not be made immediately, gentlemen. I shall take your suggestions back with me to the Justice Department." He looked at Vortik one last time. "Both opposed to the melders and in favor of the melders."

With that, Sumarek stood and raised his right hand in the standard Vulcan gesture. "Live long and prosper, gentlemen."

"Long life and prosperity, Sumarek," Soval stated. The Vulcan doctors quickly followed Sumarek out and Soval was grateful to be alone. He attempted to rise and found it difficult to do so. Reaching a hand out to steady himself, his grasp found the edge of his desk before his vision blurred.

I must fight this. The time must wait. I can return to Vulcan after the signing of the Andorian-Vulcan peace treaty. If I give into the disease now, they will send T'Ling in my place, Soval thought as he shook his head firmly.

Soval would not allow that. The signing of this treaty would be a historic event and Soval aimed to be present at such an event.

His vision restored, he contacted his ship to let them know he was ready to be beamed aboard. He was greeted by Sub-Commander Slark. "Greetings, Ambassador Soval," the officer acknowledged.

Soval was not in the mood for such pleasantries. "I am going to my quarters to meditate, Sub-Commander," he said forcefully. "I do not wish to be disturbed until we rendezvous with Enterprise."


	2. Meanwhile, Back On Enterprise

Trip Tucker hadn't been having a very good day. The engines had been thrown completely out of wack in their last alien encounter, and Trip estimated that it would take at least two weeks to repair them.

"Oh, but Trip, that ain't good enough, is it?" he grumbled to himself as stomped into the Mess hall for a late night snack. There was no way he could go to sleep as he still had plenty of fixing to do with the engines, but he had skipped dinner and was beginning to feel it. Hopefully there'd be a piece of pecan pie left.

That's just what I need, Trip thought to himself. Comfort food and sugar. Food for the soul and energy to run on.

"And I need plenty of energy because the Cap'n wants to have the engines back up to Warp 5 in five days!" he grumbled again as he opened the refrigeration unit.

Helping himself to the rest of the pie-there was really enough for three pieces, but then, Trip had skipped dinner-as well as a cold glass of milk, Trip maneuvered his way to the seating area, still complaining to himself as he sat down.

"Just because the damn Vulcans and Andorians are signin' a stupid piece treaty, the Cap'n's expecting miracles," he grumbled, stabbing his force savagely into the pie.

"Are you frequently in the habit of communicating with yourself, Commander Tucker?" a familiar voice asked.

Trip looked up to see Sub-Commander T'Pol standing in front of him, her hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea.

Such delicate hands too, Trip thought with a grin. Aw, hell, where did that thought come from? he asked himself.

"Sleep deprivation," he muttered. At T'Pol's questioning looking, Trip flashed his most charming grin and waved towards the seat in front of him.

"Have a seat, T'Pol," he said. "And no, I am not in the habit of talkin' to myself. I was just complainin' about my current circumstances in life," he explained, taking a swig of his milk.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow in response. "You are experiencing unhappiness with your current post?" T'Pol asked. Although she would not have shared it with Commander Tucker, the thought of him being unhappy was one she found greatly dissatisfying. As the tremor of dissatisfaction made itself known, so too did a strong stab of pain behind T'Pol's eyes. She ignored the pain, surmising it was one of the many side affects she had been experiencing lately due to the Pa'nar Syndrome. Instead she chose to focus on the words being spoken by Commander Tucker.

"Nah, I ain't unhappy on the Enterprise. It's just been a lousy week," Trip explained, with his mouth full of food. When he was rewarded with only a raised eyebrow, Trip took that as his cue to continue.

Strange, how we're learnin' to communicate without even speakin' sometimes, he mused.

"Well, the whole attack wasn't good for anyone I guess. But it really messed up the engines and it'll take a least two weeks to fix 'em, but Jon wants 'em done in five days. Impossible. But he says if we ain't up to Warp 5 by then, the Andorian-Vulcan peace treaty—"

"Most likely will not be signed, as they will not have Captain Archer as a negotiator," T'Pol finished for him.

Trip nodded, taking another bite of the pie. "Yep," he mumbled through his food. "And I certainly don't wanna be the one responsible for preventin' peace, ya know?"

T'Pol shook her head. "I have great faith in your capabilities, Commander. You are a very...competent...engineer," she told him, taking a drink of her tea.

Trip looked at her in surprise. "Why, Sub-Commander, if I didn't know better, I'd take that as a complement."

"You may take it as such, if it pleases you. Is that all that has concerned you this week?" T'Pol inquired.

Still a bit off-guard due to T'Pol's complement, Trip didn't answer for a moment. When he did find his voice, however, he shook his head. "Nah, got stood up for a date too."

T'Pol tried to suppress the jealously she felt twinge within her. She was not entirely successful.

"Hey, T'Pol, ya okay?" Trip asked, his voice full of concern. The normally reserved Vulcan had clutched her forehead and was visibly in pain.

"I...am...fine," T'Pol stated. Her voice shook slightly though, betraying her words.

"Ya sure? Maybe ya should head to sickbay," Trip asked, concerned.

"I am fine, Commander," she replied, taking another drink of her tea. She did not wish to visit sickbay again. She had just visited there this morning and the unpleasant truth of the conversation she had experienced with Dr. Phlox still weighed somewhat heavily in the back of T'Pol's mind.

"Um, okay, T'Pol. If you say so," Trip said skeptically. "But ya don't look okay. Ya hungry? Here, have some of the pie. I certainly don't need it all." With that, Trip pushed the plate and his fork closer to T'Pol.

T'Pol started to protest, as she did not require nourishment. T'Pol also had been avoiding pecan pie for the past month, as it had been causing her the most unpleasant sensation. Curiously, the pie had induced headaches very similar to the ones she had been experiencing tonight.

However, T'Pol had known Commander Tucker long enough to know the extent of his stubbornness and as T'Pol had been having her own rather bad week, she did not have the strength required to disagree with him. Instead, she picked up the fork gingerly and cut off a small sliver of the pie.

As she placed the morsel in her mouth, T'Pol felt an overwhelming agony inside her head. The last thing she heard before passing out was the frantic voice of one very worried Commander Tucker.


	3. Questions, Questions Everywhere

T'Pol slowly opened her eyes and immediately regretted doing so. The lights in sickbay greatly aggravated an already agonizing headache.

"Hey, T'Pol, you're awake," she heard the familiar southern accent beside her. Trip turned his head briefly to yell, "Hey, Doc! She's awake!"

In spite of herself, T'Pol winced in pain at the sound of Trip's elevated decimal level. "Please, Commander, lower your voice," she whispered softly. The sound of her own voice caused her accelerated pain as well. With a sigh, T'Pol closed her eyes and took two deep breaths in an attempt to control the pain.

"Aw, geez, I'm sorry, T'Pol," Trip whispered. "How ya feelin'?" he asked, continuing to speak softly.

T'Pol knew that if she lived to see three hundred years, she would never ceased to be amazed by this human. There were times when T'Pol was convinced that Commander Tucker was determined to be an insensitive and irrational being. At other times, Commander Tucker seemed determined to prove that assertion false. Now seemed very likely to be one of those times. Although he made no attempt to hide his typical jubilance at sparring with T'Pol and frequently jumped at the opportunity to do the exact opposite of what she asked, he had just demonstrated the ability to ascertain that now would be an inappropriate time to do so.

"Vulcans do not feel, Commander Tucker," she responded in reply to his question. Surprisingly, the engineer laughed in response.

"Well, ya must be feeling much better if ya're feelin' up to disagreein' with me," Trip remarked.

"I would not disagree with you, Commander Tucker, if you would not insist on demonstrating such illogical behavior when it is obvious you are capable of logical cognitive processes," she replied.

"Yep, back to your feisty Vulcan self," Trip laughed before pausing to consider the full impact of what she had just said. "Hey-did ya just admit that I'm capable of logical thought?" he asked.

Unwilling to admit to her slip, or more importantly, unwilling to face the ramifications of her slip, T'Pol deftly ignored his question and responded with one of her own. " 'Feisty', Commander?"

Dr. Phlox, who had been patiently observing the interaction between the human and the Vulcan, decided that this would be a good moment to make his presence known. Although he was certain that Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol were engaged in some type of bizarre human and Vulcan pre-mating rituals, as a physician Dr. Phlox did not believe T'Pol's delicate condition would allow for such activities.

"Ah, Sub-Commander, I see you're awake!" he greeted by way of announcing his presence. Although he kept his voice as cheerfully optimistic as always, he did lower it respectfully in light of the headache the Sub-Commander was having.

In light of recent events, Phlox was finding it difficult to remain optimistic.

"Greetings, Doctor," T'Pol said by way of greeting. Turning to face Trip, she said, "Commander Tucker, do your duties not require you elsewhere?"

"Gee, T'Pol, you're welcome," Trip grumbled sarcastically.

"For what occasion do you believe you are owed a 'thank you', Commander Tucker?" inquired T'Pol. I have overestimated his logical abilities, she thought to himself. He is every bit as irrational as I have been lead to believe on prior occasions.

"Well, let's see-after ya pulled you're little passin' out trick in the Mess Hall, how do ya suppose ya got here? Think ya floated in?" Trip retorted. The redness which had started behind his ears and was now encroaching upon his cheeks was the only sign that the Commander was angry. Although difficult, he still managed to keep his tone hushed, out of respect for the pain T'Pol was in.

"I did not intend to cause you any inconvenience, Commander," T'Pol replied, her own voice elevated slightly.

Trip's mouth dropped open momentarily. _Good job, Tucker_ , he chastised himself. _God knows what's wrong with the woman and here ya are just makin' it worse. That's gotta put me up at the top of the list for 'Bastard of the Year' honors._ "Ya didn't cause me any inconvenience, T'Pol...I...was not expectin' a thank ya for bringin' ya here," he explained sheepishly, his voice even softer than it had been a moment before.

"Then what exactly did you expect, Commander?" was T'Pol's own cryptic reply.

Tucker's face hardened, and his mouth transformed from a friendly smile into an unfriendly line. "Nothin', Sub-Commander. Nothin' at all," he retorted before turning sharply and stomped out of sickbay.

T'Pol allowed her gaze to linger only momentarily on the Commander's retreating form before turning to face the doctor. Raising slowly into a sitting position, she met the physician's gaze and asked simply, "Am I to surmise that my fainting spell is yet another side affect of the Pa'nar Syndrome?"

Phlox frowned slightly which was rare for the cheerful little man. But no physician likes to feel helpless when it came to curing their patients, and helpless was exactly what Phlox was feeling. Shaking his head, Phlox sighed. "I don't think so, Sub-Commander."

Phlox was rewarded with a raised eyebrow. He had grown rather fond of that gesture. He could only hope it was one he would continue to see for some time.

But of that he was not certain.

"I've been monitoring your brain wave activities since the commander brought you in," Phlox paused slightly to remember the frantic look on Commander Tucker's face and the sound of absolute terror that had been present in his voice. Calling it "emotional" was an understatement. "The portion of your brain that is being affected currently is the medial insula. Essentially, the section of your brain responsible for so called 'gut impulses.'"

"While your definition is effective but crude, Doctor, it is entirely unnecessary. I am the Science Officer. I am familiar with that section of the brain," T'Pol told the Denobulan.

"Then you are also aware that this area of the brain is not typically affected by the Pa'nar Syndrome," Phlox remarked. At T'Pol's slight nod, he continued, "I am not certain exactly why you have increased brain activity in this area. I need to know what sensations you may have been experiencing prior to your attack."

T'Pol furrowed her eyebrows slightly. "I had been experiencing acute amounts of discomfort in my frontal lobe region." She tilted her head slightly and remarked, "The medial insula is in the midbrain region, Doctor. If I had been experiencing accelerated activity in that region, why did the discomfort present itself in the frontal portion of the brain?"

"I don't know, Sub-Commander. What were you doing at the time the headaches occurred?"

"I was conversing with Commander Tucker when I collapsed," T'Pol replied stoically.

"Yes, Sub-Commander, I realize that. What were you conversing about? Is there anything in your conversation that may have triggered your headaches?"

"No," T'Pol said quickly. Too quickly. Phlox sighed and wondered if there were any patients in the universe as obstinate as Vulcans. While Phlox respected the values Vulcans placed on privacy, he did not appreciate his patient keeping material from him which would help him in curing her.

"T'Pol, I would hope you know by now that as your physician, anything you say will remain in the strictest of confidence. I know Vulcans don't like to discuss certain things with non-Vulcans, but I can't help you if I don't know all your symptoms." He smiled his patented Phlox smile and added, "Come on, T'Pol, yield to the logic of the situation."

_Logic often cannot be counted on in my dealings with Commander Tucker,_ T'Pol thought to herself. _Frequently much more human emotions are responsible._ T'Pol was not willing to admit that to herself, much less anyone else. Still...Phlox had proven himself worthy of her trust in the past. And although death may be inevitable, T'Pol did not welcome the thought.

"Commander Tucker had made remarks which provoked great emotions within me, Doctor," she said finally. She hastened to add, "Emotions that I would have normally been able to suppress quite easily, but when I attempted to do so, I experienced great...discomfort," she finished.

"I see. Did you experience any additional discomfort during your last...ah, conversation with Commander Tucker? The one here in sickbay?" Phlox inquired.

"I did not. The headache I was experiencing was a lingering sensation. There were no additional feelings of discomfort," T'Pol stated.

Then, apparently, the headaches were only caused by some emotions and not by others, Phlox deducted. Because certainly, that last little scene had enough emotion to share with the entire ship. "And is your conversation with Commander Tucker the only event that has triggered these headaches?" he wondered.

"No. I also experienced similar discomfort when I consumed pecan pie," T'Pol admitted reluctantly. T'Pol's copper was beginning to have the same affect on her skin as Tucker's iron based counterpart had had moments earlier.

"Fascinating. I have found humans sometimes associate food with emotion. Does pecan pie have an association other than sustenance, Sub-Commander?"

T'Pol remembered a very similar conversation she had conducted with Commander Tucker two years prior. The memory ushered in an unwelcome feeling of warmth which prompted T'Pol to gasp in pain before she could properly identify which emotion it actually was.

When the sensation passed, she opened her eyes to see a very concerned Doctor Phlox. While T'Pol did not like to admit it, the sight of the typically optimistic alien physician frowning caused her a considerable amount of apprehension.

"I suppose that is a yes, Sub-Commander?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound light.

T'Pol could feel herself becoming agitated. "Is this conversation doing us any good, Doctor?" she asked.

"Truthfully, not a lot. I'll let you get back to your work, Sub-Commander. However, I want to see you in exactly twenty-four hours. In that time, I want you to take note of each time you have an attack and which emotions trigger the attack. I'll give you this hypospray so that you can help ease that accompanies them," he added, handing her the hypospray.

T'Pol nodded in acknowledgment and slid the biobed. "Thank you, doctor," she replied as she turned and headed out of sickbay.

"T'Pol, I'm not certain what this means in light of our conversation this morning—" Phlox started but was interrupted by T'Pol.

"I am well aware of the contents of our conversation this morning, Doctor. We do not need to have a duplicate conversation. As for what this current problem 'means,' that should be fairly obvious." With that, the Vulcan turned and left, leaving the poor physician to his own musings.

_Yes, it should be fairly obvious. I just hope I'm wrong._ , Phlox thought to himself.


	4. The Experiment Begins

A science experiment.

At least, that's what Sub-Commander T'Pol was trying to convince herself she was conducting. It was a much less unpleasant thought than completely acknowledging the truth. If she had been forced to acknowledge that she was looking for events that triggered her emotions, that would have caused too much discomfort.

After all, admitting that would have required conceding that she was capable of having emotions. That was something T'Pol was unwilling to do.

Especially given the reactions her body had been having lately to Commander Tucker.

_It is a simple science experiment,_ T'Pol reminded herself. _As with any basic science experiment, I shall employ multiple variables._ In this case, the variables would be interactions with various crew members. Since T'Pol realized she could not interact with every one on board, she had narrowed it down to the senior bridge officers. Logically, she was in their presence most frequently. Thus, she reasoned, they should be more likely to incite emotional response.

_Strictly logical,_ T'Pol told herself as she held her breakfast tray and scanned the mess hall for a suitable breakfast companion. As it was still quite early, the Mess Hall was not at all crowded. _Humans do have a strange capacity to skip breakfast. This typically leads to over indulgence in the afternoon and evening meals._ Strange behavior, indeed. One that T'Pol would have believed serving on a star ship would help curb, but she was incorrect.

The only bridge officers T'Pol found were Ensigns Sato and Mayweather. _How fortunate_ T'Pol reflected. _I shall be able to eliminate two of the variables in one sitting._

Determinedly, T'Pol made her way over to where the two unsuspecting Ensigns sat. "Ensigns," she said by way of greeting. "May I join you?"

Hoshi and Travis exchanged a surprised look. It was common ship knowledge that the only people T'Pol ever ate with was the Captain and Commander Tucker. And the crew was pretty certain that was not something she did by choice.

"Well, Sub-Commander, I was just getting ready to leave. I have a lot of work to do in translating the language from our last encounter," Hoshi told the Vulcan. "But I'm sure Travis would appreciate the company."

From the expression that flashed across Travis' face, T'Pol surmised that statement to be less than accurate. Still, Travis seemed to use the tactic of "being polite" as he flashed a smile in T'Pol's direction and waved to the seat left vacant as Hoshi stood. "Sure, Sub-Commander, have a seat."

"Thank you, Ensign," T'Pol said to the helmsman. Turning towards Hoshi, T'Pol remarked, "Ensign Sato, I have noticed you to be quite dedicated in your tasks. Undoubtedly, your dedication causes you great amounts of...stress. I believe Vulcan meditation techniques would help to alleviate such stress. I can teach them to you, if you are interested."

Hoshi just stared at Vulcan for a moment. _Did T'Pol just make an overtly friendly gesture?_ she wondered. No, that couldn't have been right. Vulcans aren't friendly. _Maybe she's just concerned about my "stress level" affecting my duties._ Still, it would have been rude not to accept the offer, considering it was the closest any of the Enterprise crew had gotten to seeing T'Pol attempt to be friendly.

"Sure, T'Pol. I'd be happy to learn whatever you're willing to teach me," Hoshi responded cheerfully.

"In that case, perhaps we should meet in my quarters after your shift is over?" T'Pol offered.

_Damn, she doesn't waste any time, does she?_ "Sure-um, see ya at 1700 hours?"

"That will be acceptable. Good day, Ensign," said T'Pol as she said down opposite of a dumbfounded Travis Mayweather. Hoshi knew exactly how he felt and would have loved to stay in the Mess Hall to hear the conversation between Travis and T'Pol, but she did want to work on the language a bit more before her regular shift started. _And besides, if I get there soon enough, I'll be able to catch Malcolm before T'Pol gets there._ Hoshi grinned to herself as she turned to go, knowing that the armory officer would find T'Pol's out of character actions just as interesting as Hoshi and Travis had.

T'Pol turned to face the young helmsman seated in front of her. Although she had grown accustomed to the concept of conversing when she ate courtesy of her dinners with the Captain and Commander Tucker, she found it exceedingly difficult to begin to converse with Mayweather, as she knew very little about him to begin with.

For three full minutes they ate in silence until T'Pol realized that simply being in the same room with the man would not help her experiment at all. Grasping at the only information she knew about the pilot, she finally asked, "Do you feel your time in space as a child helped to adequately prepare you for your current posting?"

_What is that supposed to mean?_ Travis wondered. _Since when does T'Pol care about any of our childhoods?_ "I'm not quite sure I follow, Sub-Commander."

"You spent your formative years in space with your parents, did you not?"

"Yeah..."

"My question was simply whether you believe such an experience was adequate training for your current post."

_Is she questioning my skill ability?_ Travis wondered, feeling himself grow angry. "Well, it helped to install the love of space travel. That's helpful to anyone flying a ship, I suppose."

"You 'suppose'?"

"Well, I am a Starfleet trained officer. I'm pretty sure that had a lot more to do with training me for my current post than my previous boomer experience," Travis managed to snap, allowing a bit anger to edge into his voice.

T'Pol picked up on it immediately and noticed that surprise was not an emotion which incited head discomfort. "I am aware of your qualifications, Ensign. I was simply trying to ascertain more information concerning your life. I believe you humans call it 'small talk'?"

Travis felt a small sliver of guilt. Along with a heavy dosage of shock, of course. "Sorry, Sub-Commander. I suppose that outburst was un-called for."

"I am not offended."

*'Course not. That would require an emotional response, would it not?* Travis grinned to himself. "To answer your question...I'd say it helped a lot. My father in particular was a large influence."

"In what manner?"

"Just in the way that he was so...passionate about doing what he loved. He was truly at home amongst the stars, and loved it. I always believed that I inherited my enthusiasm for space from him." Travis stopped, feeling the full effect of his father's death.

"Are you all right, Ensign?"

"Yeah...Sorry, I just got a little choked up there, thinking of my father." At T'Pol's inquisitive look, he explained, "Thinking of my father reminded me of his passing."

"I grieve with thee," T'Pol responded. Privately, she added guilt to the list of non-offending emotions.

"So, what about you?" Mayweather asked, taking a drink of his orange juice.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow and mentally added confusion to her list as well. "What about me?" she repeated.

"Well, yeah. What in your childhood prompted you to pursue your current plans?"

"Vulcan has been exploring space for some time, Ensign. Most Vulcan children contemplate the idea of space exploration at some point in their lives." A more than slightly unwelcome memory of a disagreement bid its way into T'Pol's mind.

* * *

"My decision is final."

"It is a mistake. Any Vulcan has the same science capabilities as you. Your true talent lies in the realm of diplomacy—"

"My true talents are mine to discover."

"You are allowing your failed relationship with that human male to cloud your judgment."

* * *

"Sub-Commander?" The voice of Travis Mayweather brought T'Pol's thoughts back to the present.

"I apologize, Ensign. I became...distracted. If you could repeat your question?"

"Uh...I was just saying that I should probably head to the bridge. It was real nice talking to you. But my shift starts pretty soon."

T'Pol nodded. "I shall accompany you," she informed the Ensign.

_Well, why not?_ Travis thought to himself. _It certainly falls into the pattern of things that don't make any sense that you established since you first came in this morning._ Out loud he simply said, "Sure."

They walked in virtual silence to the turbo lift. Travis took the time to reflect on a truly bizarre morning and hope it wasn't some type of sign of things to come for the rest of the day. T'Pol took the time to take stock of the emotions Mayweather had induced and their effects.

*Surprise, guilt, confusion and...* T'Pol was not entirely certain how to classify the last emotion, the one inspired by her remembrance. She was certain, however, that the emotion along with the other three had not caused her any type of physical discomfort.

Both Travis and T'Pol were so caught up in their thoughts that they did not hear the voice of the Enterprise's chief engineer, calling them to wait up. In fact, Tucker barely made the turbo lift before it slid shut.

"Gee, thanks for holdin' the lift," he said sarcastically.

"Oh, Trip, good morning. Didn't notice you," Travis remarked.

"That's for damn sure. If I was a more sensitive man, I'd be offended." Turning towards T'Pol, he lowered his voice just slightly, and asked, "How ya feelin' this mornin', T'Pol?"

"I am well, Commander Tucker."

Trip frowned slightly, "Are ya sure? Ya had a real rough night..." he trailed off.

_So, the Sub-Commander's sick. THAT explains a lot_ Travis thought to himself.

"I told you once, Commander. I am well," T'Pol said forcefully. "If I was not, the doctor would not have released me."

Trip looked at her a bit skeptically. "If ya say so."

"I do."

Their discourse was interrupted by the halt of the turbo lift. As they walked out onto the bridge, they could clearly hear Lt. Reed saying, "I don't believe you, Hoshi."

"Well, it's true. Just ask Travis when he gets here," the Ensign protested.

"He's here now, Mal. Ya can ask him," Trip informed them, announcing their presence.

Sensing exactly what Hoshi had been sharing with the Armory Officer, Travis decided to come to both Malcolm and Hoshi's rescue. "Oh, I think that can wait till we're off duty, Commander," he said as he scurried quickly to his position at the helm.

_What was that about?_ Trip wondered. Travis' actions, however, were nothing next to what T'Pol did. Coming to stand in front of Malcolm, she laced her hands behind her back and stated, quite calmly, "Lieutenant Reed, I will be practicing my Vulcan martial arts skills tonight at 1900 hours. It is a skill which requires a physical partner in order to be effective. As you are both our security officer and in excellent physical shape, I have determined you to have enough stamina and physical endurance to undergo such an activity. Would you assist me?"

Travis whirled around in his seat to exchange a look with Hoshi. As the Captain was not yet on the bridge, Hoshi took the opportunity to mouth "What the hell?" to the Ensign. Travis shrugged his shoulders and mouthed back, "She's sick."

"What the hell" was exactly what Malcolm was thinking. Actually, that was a very small part of what Malcolm was thinking. Still, it was the essential gist. "Er...come again, Sub-Commander?"

"I require a partner for tonight's activities and wish that partner to be you," T'Pol stated calmly, having no idea what type of effect she was having on her fellow officers. Then as an after thought, she remarked, "having such combat skills will greatly enhance your efficiency as a security officer."

Those were, of course, the magic words. "I'll be happy to assist you, Sub-Commander."

"T'Pol, ya sure that's a good idea? Maybe ya should rest," Trip interjected.

T'Pol fixed her gaze on Trip. "I am fine, Commander. Further, my health is none of your concern." Turning back to Malcolm, she added, "Meet me at 1900 hours, Lieutenant."

_Right, none of my business. Dj vu in that department,_ Trip thought bitterly. _Course, while it's none of my business, Malcolm's practically gettin' propositioned._

Trip at that moment decided that whatever reason he had for being on the bridge wasn't that important. "I'm going back to my engine room," he grumbled as he turned to walk back towards the turbo lift.

"That is most likely the wisest course of action, given the condition the engines are in, Commander," was T'Pol's reply.

Trip whirled around to face her. "If you're so convinced I can't do my job, Sub-Commander, maybe you can come lend a hand in engineering, after ya and Malcolm are done with your workout." Trip was too busy stomping to the turbo lift to notice T'Pol pulling out the hypospray and applying it to her neck.

Hoshi, who had been watching the entire event in great amusement, did notice. "Sub-Commander, are you alright?" she asked with concern.

"I am fine," T'Pol repeated once again. Inwardly, she acknowledged the falsehood of that statement. But there was no reason her science experiment needed to be made pubic. Even if she could have explained the nature of her experiment, T'Pol doubted very much that she could have explained why Commander Tucker's challenge had installed a feeling of lust within her.

_Well, this day's getting odder and odder,_ Travis reflected, turning back to his console. *And it's just beginning."


	5. Intermission: Vulcan Security Headquarters

There was a moment of reflective silence in the conference room following Sumarek's retelling of the story he himself had heard for the first time less than twenty-four hours ago. Seated in the room in front of Sumarek were two justice department members: Suvan and Tovor; two ambassadors: T'Ling and Sporik, and five representatives from governmental positions: T'Pau, T'Mir, Solan, T'Val, and T'Lal.

Had they been humans, it could have been said that the ten most powerful beings on the planet were gathered in the conference room. They were certainly amongst the most influential members of Vulcan society.

"As a child, I was simply taught to believe melders were unacceptable because they represented a lapse in emotional control," supplied Suvan. "There was no mention of such a complicated history."

"Surely, you have heard mention of Sovik before, Suvan?" T'Lal asked. "He was the most well known of Surak's students."

"Yes, I am aware of that fact, T'Lal," replied the younger Vulcan man. "And I am aware of his accomplishments as well as his turn away from Surak's teachings late in life. I am also aware of the prince in question, Salek. What I have not heard before is the story of their interaction."

"What is causing me difficulty," interjected Sporik "is if this story is true, why are not all of us familiar with the events?"

Sumarek was pleased at Sporik's question. He himself had been contemplating the same question.

T'Ling had also been contemplating the question as well. As the secondary ambassador to Earth, along with Soval, she had been encountered a vast knowledge of human history and felt compelled to draw parallels. "In my travels," she began, "I have encountered a history of bigotry and distrust amongst humans. In their case, there seemed to be racial divisions as sharp as our own melder and non-melder divisions."

"To object against another because of an excess of melanin is illogical," commented T'Val. "No Vulcan would do such a thing."

"Lately, some of our allies disagree with you, T'Val," Sumarek remarked. "It would appear they see similar bigotry. Please continue, T'Ling."

"In the human histories I have studied, at times when racial hatred was at its highest, the majority of humans gave abstract reasons for disliking one of the other race. For example, a human of Anglo-American descent may have stated, 'I do not like African-Americans because they are criminal.' A small percentage of humans, however, would cite a specific reason in distant history. One might say 'a slave on my father's forefather's farm brutally murdered his master, thus, African-Americans are criminal and dangerous.'"

"There are parallels to be drawn," Sumarek mused.

"I do not believe so," objected Tovor. Sumarek suppressed his feeling of agitation. Tovor and T'Lal were both staunch supporters of the status quo of restricting melders. It was not surprising he could not see the obvious similarities in the stories. Tovor continued, "The humans were engaging in the barbaric practice of slavery. We do not subject melders to slavery. They are free to live their lives as they see fit—"

"As long as they do not meld?" Interjected Sumarek.

Both Tovor and T'Lal arched an eyebrow at Sumarek's comment. _A lapse in control on my part?_ Sumarek wondered. _No. If anyone is making emotional lapses, it is certainly the anti-melding faction._

There was a slight pause following Sumarek's remark as the remaining Vulcans contemplated his words. "A single Vulcan?" asked T'Pau finally. "A mistake of a single Vulcan was seen as reason to terminate an act practiced peacefully by the rest of the population?"

"Most illogical," commented Solan.

T'Mir's comment was not as understated. "Exactly how was it decided that the actions of the few should dictate the punishment of the many?" she demanded.

Sumarek could feel a slight tug at the corner of his lips. T'Mir was still young, by Vulcan standards. Having only recently achieved her thirtieth birthday, T'Mir had not yet learned to conceal her emotions as much as was appropriate.

"We must remember that at the time of Sovik, Vulcans were still new to the ideas of logic. The Vulcans alive at the time of Sovik remembered the days of Vulcan prior to Surak. Sovik's behavior threatened to return them to that lifestyle. Indeed, it threatened the very ideals of logic upon which Vulcan society was being based," Sumarek remarked.

"Anyone who possibly posed a danger to the logic would have been eliminated," T'Pau agreed with a slight shake of her head.

"The humans have a saying 'better safe than sorry'. I believe that is what our Vulcan ancestors were following when they outlawed melding," T'Ling proposed.

"We are not humans, T'Ling. We do not behave the same," Tovor reminded her.

"Yes, but are we behaving like Vulcans?" Sumarek countered.

Again, there was a silence. But only briefly.

"Yes, we are. If we take the story to be true, then we can see that the melders are dangerous," Tovor stated.

"And what evidence is there that the melds are beneficial to Vulcan thought or philosophy?" T'Lal offered. "I would not be willing to support changes in our laws unless there was an undeniable reason to believe mind melds have some benefit other than being an emotional outlet for Vulcans unable to control themselves."

"Is that what you propose we tell our allies?" Sporik asked.

"What occurs on Vulcan and our government is not the concern of outworlders. Perhaps you should tell them that," retorted Tovor.

_Is it any wonder the humans believe us to be arrogant?_ Sumarek speculated.

* * *

_Mess Hall, Lunch Time, Enterprise_

Lieutenant Hess sat wearily down into the mess hall chair. She was so exhausted that she wasn't sure if getting back up would be an option. _It'd better be. I have a feeling that if I were to drop dead of exhaustion at this point, Commander Tucker would personally come to the afterlife and haul my ass back here to work on the engines._ Hess grinned to herself. _Then he'd put me to work scrubbing the engineering floor spotless as punishment for having the audacity to die while on duty._

"Well, that's a particularly evil look," Hoshi Sato commented as she squeezed into the seat across from Hess.

Hess flashed the friendly woman a brief smile. "You would not believe the day I've had, Hoshi," she replied.

Hoshi gave her a sympathetic look. "Yeah, the last encounter with the Suliban really tore up our engine room, huh?"

"Yep-it's the only part of the ship to get totally screwed, but getting the Warp Engines back up to Warp 5 isn't the hardest project in Engineering these days," Hess replied, taking a large bite of her grilled cheese sandwich.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Hess lowered her voice. "It's a close second. But first prize is project 'stay the hell out of Commander Tucker's way.' "

"Hold on just a sec," Hoshi said to the woman. Seeing Travis and Malcolm scanning the very crowded mess hall for somewhere to eat Hoshi waved them over.

"Hey, Travis, Lieutenant Reed," Hess greeted.

"We're at lunch, woman. I'm pretty sure you can call him 'Malcolm," Hoshi laughed at the engineer's formality.

"With the way today is going, I think I'll refrain from that, Hoshi. As easy as it's been to piss off certain officers, I think I'll just call everyone by their rank from here on out. In fact, I may start calling you Ensign Sato," came Hess' reply.

Both Malcolm and Travis looked at the woman questionably. Hoshi filled them in briefly. "Hess was just getting close to telling me all sorts of great, juicy gossip about Trip."

"Well, we joined you just in time then," Travis remarked. "What's going on with Trip?"

Hess cast a nervous glance in Malcolm's direction, not certain exactly how proper it was to gossip in front of the man in charge of ship security. Sensing her friend's unease, Hoshi hastily assured her, "Don't mind Malcolm. Contrary to popular opinion, he does like to have fun on occasion."

"Yeah, he even has a date with Sub-Commander T'Pol tonight," chimed Travis.

"I most certainly do not!" Malcolm protested.

Hess regarded them curiously. She didn't know Sub-Commander T'Pol that well, but the woman had spent enough time in engineering over the past two years that Hess had gotten a fairly good indication of the Sub-Commander's personality. She did not seem like someone who would date anyone.

"Well, I guess you're right, Malcolm," Hoshi admitted. "T'Pol didn't seem too interested in dating."

"Nah, she's ready to skip ahead to the physical," Travis responded.

Hess choked on her lemonade. After a few good slaps on the back from Malcolm, she was finally able to formulate a question. "Do I even want to know what that was about?" she asked.

"We'll tell you all about it, as soon as you spill the gossip about Trip," Hoshi assured her.

"It's nothing major," she informed them. "It's just that usually, working under Commander Tucker is fairly pleasant. You do your job, and you do it well and you'll be fine."

"Sounds reasonable," Travis remarked.

Hess groaned. "It is...except today he's been anything but reasonable. He's snapped at everyone at least twice, and sent poor Ensign Ross to run a level six diagnostic—"

"Level six?" Malcolm asked in astonishment. "That will take—"

"Forever," Hess finished for him with a nod. "And then of course, he threatened to have Lieutenant Hanson hauled off to the brig for 'insubordination.' all because the poor man had the misfortune to smile while Commander Tucker was ranting about the imperativeness of completing the repairs in time."

"He wanted to put someone in the brig because they smiled?" Hoshi asked incredulously.

_No bloody way am I sending someone to watch a crewman for that type of infraction_ Malcolm thought to himself.

Hess nodded. "Then he told Ensign Thomas she was going to keep him company five minutes later because she some type of comment about Sub-Commander T'Pol's outfit."

Hoshi thought of Trip's reaction to T'Pol earlier in the day and grinned. "What did Ensign Thomas say?"

"Oh, she just made the off handed comment that she didn't see why T'Pol didn't wear a real uniform. She was working the entire time she was talking. You know, we have to converse while we work down there-some of us have been down there for two days straight."

Her company nodded in sympathy, feeling both guilty and extremely relieved that the engines were the only part of the ship that had been damaged in the last attack.

"Well, anyway, Thomas just remarked to hmm...I think it was Gabin, that she thought T'Pol's outfit was a bit...unprofessional and if she was second in command, why couldn't she wear a uniform?"

"She's not a Starfleet officer," Malcolm reminded her.

"Yeah, but that suit-oh, you're a guy, you probably appreciate it," Hess rolled her eyes.

"What does that mean?" Malcolm demanded.

"Yeah-I think I'm offended," Travis offered.

"Ignore them. Continue with your story," Hoshi instructed.

"Well, defying the laws of physics and the speed of sound, Commander Tucker heard her say it all the way across the engine room, and completely laid into her. Told her and I quote: 'Sub-Commander T'Pol is a Vulcan and sometimes Vulcans do things that don't make any sense to anybody, but if you question them they'll just tell you it's none of your business so you should mind your own and stay out of their's.' He then proceeded to remind her that the Sub-Commander was second in command and Thomas' words against her bordered on mutiny."

"Mutiny?" Travis asked.

Hess nodded. "The poor woman was practically in tears. She tried to tell him that she hadn't meant it that way, and he told her not to add insubordination to her list of offenses." Hess shrugged and stood up. "I hope you've enjoyed the gossip today, ladies and gentlemen. But if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to engineering before Commander Tucker comes up here and drags me back by my ear." With that she left.

"Drags her back by the ear?" Malcolm asked in confusion. "Why on Earth would he drag her by the ear?"

Hoshi laughed. "She didn't mean it literally, Malcolm."

"Nah, she was just making a comment about Trip's crankiness," Travis told the security officer. Then thoughtfully, he added, "You know, it's really not like Trip to act so unprofessional. Laid back, sure, but so mean? It just seems out of character." "Yes, but who is acting in character on this ship these days?" Inquired Malcolm. "I'm beginning to wonder if we aren't all being infected with type of virus."

Travis' eyes lit up excitedly at that. "Maybe-did you ever seen any of those cheesey old sci fi movies produced in the late twentieth century?" At Malcolm and Hoshi's nods, Travis continued, "The crews of their space ships used to run into viruses all the time."

"Yes, but they usually got viruses that made them want to have sex or kill people," Hoshi protested.

"Yes, and if it is a virus, why are only T'Pol and Trip being affected?" Malcolm countered.

Travis rolled his eyes. "You guys aren't any fun at all."

"Nah, it could be a virus that only affects Vulcans. After all, we know why Trip is behaving so oddly."

Malcolm and Travis just exchanged confused glances. "We do?" Malcolm asked.

Hoshi nodded. "He's jealous."

Another confused look passed between the men. "Just how did you come up with that theory? And who or what is he jealous of?" Travis wondered.

Hoshi sighed exasperatedly. "Didn't you see it this morning on the bridge? It was so obvious. Speaking of which, what did T'Pol want to talk to you about this morning, Travis?"

Travis shook his head, still not really believing it. "She wanted to talk about my childhood."

"Your childhood?" Hoshi laughed.

"Yep."

"Well, perhaps she is conducting a psychiatric experiment on the crew," Malcolm offered.

"If so, Malcolm, you're her next guinea pig," Travis retorted.

Malcolm paled slightly at the thought and decided to change the subject. "So, Hoshi, you think Trip has feelings for T'Pol?"

* * *

Elsewhere on the ship, one of the objects of their conversation sat quietly attempting to mediate.

_Such behavior is thoroughly and completely un-Vulcan_ , T'Pol chastised herself. *Purposely provoking emotional response instead of controlling them...*

_I am controlling them_ , she countered to herself. _I have not allowed myself to show any emotions._

At best, T'Pol knew, this was only half true. While admittedly she had not displayed any emotional response verbally, there was no denying her behavior had changed.

The humans had definitely noticed. Being such emotionally open creatures, humans expressions of emotion were very easy to read. Her fellow crewman's reactions to her experiment had been very apparent. Most obvious had been Ensign Sato and Lieutenant Reed's surprise and confusion at T'Pol's suggestion that they engage in joint activities.

*Are they more aware of how a proper Vulcan behaves than you, T'Pol?

It is a science experiment. The time spent with humans is as necessary as mixing substances to provide a chemical reaction.

But, Vulcans should control their reactions, not provide circumstances for them to occur with greater frequency.

Adding Acid...or Adding Water?

Foolish exaggeration. I have controlled myself. I have not allowed my emotions to control me.

There have been no explosions.

Unless I have been with Commander Tucker.

No. It is too early in the experiment to draw conclusions. I have tested only two of the variables.

But does a scientist not make a hypothesis before she begins? Or have you forgotten such rudimentary science techniques?

Is it not appropriate to lapse in my science skills when I forgo my Vulcan training?

No*, T'Pol admitted. She had a hypothesis on how the experiment would turn out. She was simply hoping she would be wrong.

* * *

_Soval's Quarters, Vulcan Ship_

Soval picked up the PADD and willed his hand to meet the surface. He was gratified to discover he still had control enough to control the shaking.

_It consumes nearly all my concentration_ Soval remarked to himself.

_It does not matter. By the time of the signing, I will not need to concentrate on anything but the signing of the treaty itself._

If Vulcan High Command knew, they would replace him. _I will not be denied the opportunity to do this work because of an inconvenience._

It would be the culmination of a life worth's of diplomatic work. The time would not interfere. His life had been devoted to communicating with other cultures. It had been most rewarding, even amongst the irrational humans. Having seen other Vulcans give up their calling to diplomacy, Soval felt a decidedly un-Vulcan pride in the work he had achieved thus far.

It took certain types of Vulcans to do the work of an ambassador. Most Vulcans could not understand the logic in using deceptive techniques when required and when the needs of the few would correspond to the needs of the many although it would not be immediately apparent.

_Not every Vulcan can understand such principles while still maintaining control of themselves._ Soval believed he could.

_She could have as well._ came the unwelcome thought, but Soval pushed it away. It was best not to think of T'Pol at this time. Soval's emotional state was already fragile; he need not complicate it with thoughts of the Vulcan woman.

Soval's thoughts were interrupted by the chime of his door and he fought to suppress the overwhelming anger within him. _Another sign of the time_ he thought.

Rising and walking to the door frame, he opened the door but did not invite the visitor in. "Doctor Ventik, I left specific instructions not to be disturbed until we rendezvoused with Enterprise."

The Vulcan doctor nodded. "I am aware of that, Soval. However, procedure requires you to have a physical before interaction with the other species."

_Had I forgotten that?_ Soval wondered. _How? It is standard Vulcan procedure._

Still, Soval knew he could not allow a physical to take place. _They would know._

"Now is not an opportune time,Doctor," he told the physician. "I will come to sick bay before contact is made, but there are other events which require my attention at the present time if the treaty is to be successful." Giving the doctor no time to respond, Soval stepped back into his quarters and closed the door.

In the corridor, Ventik raised an eyebrow. _It would be most logical for him to arrange to have the physical now and have the rest of our travel time un-interrrupted._ Still, Ventik decided not to press the matter with the distinguished Ambassador and returned to sickbay.

Inside his room, Soval felt his hands shake of their own accord. Summoning all of his Vulan strength, he tried to cease the action. It would not.

"No," he whispered. "Not yet."


	6. The Experiement Continues

_I wonder why T'Pol wanted to meet with me before she met with Malcolm. You'd think she would want to exercise first then meditate,_ Hoshi reflected as she sat cross-legged across from T'Pol.

_Maybe she just wants to be relaxed when she gets physical with Malcolm,_ the linguist thought wickedly to herself. _Eww, the mental picture of Malcolm and T'Pol having sex is not one I needed imprinted on my brain._

Actually, it was just the thought of T'Pol having sex that Hoshi found disturbing. Malcolm on the other hand...

_Hmm...this is not an unpleasant mental image to have in my head to meditate too._

Hoshi's meditative partner contemplated her next move carefully. The extra meditation had helped T'Pol enormously. Still, the purpose of meditation was to rid herself of emotions. _And the purpose of the experiment is the antithesis of meditation,_ T'Pol reminded herself.

"I am gratified you came this evening, Hoshi," T'Pol finally told the woman sitting across from her. _Wow, I wonder if Travis got first name basis this morning?_ Hoshi speculated. True, it wasn't the first time T'Pol had called Hoshi by her first name. Still, the occasion was rare enough to warrant Hoshi adding it to the list of 'possible virus' symptoms she, Travis, and Malcolm were compiling.

Taking T'Pol's cue that their meditation time was over, Hoshi stood up as she told the Vulcan, "It was my pleasure, T'Pol. I've been using the techniques you showed me when we encountered the Klingon ship and they've really helped. I'll add these to my arsenal."

"Your...'arsenal'? Exactly what perceived enemy threat do you need to develop an 'arsenal' against?" T'Pol inquired.

"Um...just...well, general fears, you know?" Hoshi hesitated momentarily, not certain how to proceed. While T'Pol had been acting out of character lately, she still wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy enough to become Hoshi's own personal counselor.

_Fears are a positive development. Perhaps they will invoke more strenuous emotions._ T'Pol thought. A mere nanosecond later, guilt washed over T'Pol and she mentally scolded herself. _Invoking emotions should not be labeled as positive by any Vulcan_

"What type of fears, Hoshi?" T'Pol prodded. "You may have a seat. You do not need to leave immediately."

_First name basis and now idle chit chat? Yep, right out of the Twilight Zone or Star Journey._ It took all of Hoshi's former cultural anthropology classes to force herself to sit down with out showing her surprise.

Of course, T'Pol noticed it anyway. _It appears Vulcans are not the only ones who value the suppressing of emotions._ she noted. It did make her wonder briefly exactly who else on her human crew was suppressing emotions. And exactly what those emotions were.

"Well," began Hoshi somewhat self-consciously, _How do I explain my fears to a Vulcan?_ "I'm sure you've noticed, T'Pol. I'm not exactly the most brave spirit out here."

"I have noticed," T'Pol responded bluntly.

Hoshi flushed. "Well, to be perfectly honest, most things about Space Travel terrify me," she remarked.

"Why then did you chose Starfleet as a career?"

"Languages," the woman responded. "I do love being a linguist. And I figured Starfleet would be the best opportunity for me to use my linguist skills."

"I see," T'Pol mused. "You did not foretell any negative side affects to Starfleet?"

_Whatever's wrong with her, she's as blunt as ever,_ noted Hoshi. "No, I guess not. Pretty human of me, huh?"

_She has taken offense. It is quite a human quality, I believe._ "I believe humans have a saying 'look before you leap'?"

"Yes—"

"You did not do so. However, I do not believe that it is a human flaw only. I have known Vulcans who have committed the same error in judgment." _Including myself._

"More importantly, you have grown in your ability to conquer your fears. As long as you continue to improve your skills, there is no need to be ashamed in needing to overcome your flaws."

Hoshi was uncertain what to say next. She prided herself in being open to other cultures-as linguists needed to be...still, the whole idea of an outright complement from the Sub-Commander was difficult to believe.

"Well, um, thank you, T'Pol," Hoshi managed to say. "I suppose I need to go so you can get ready for your da- um, appointment with Malcolm?"

T'Pol did notice the slip. Arching an eyebrow, she remarked, "I will be meeting the Captain and Commander Tucker for dinner first, Hoshi. Then I shall be meeting with Lieutenant Reed for our exercise regimen."

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself tonight. Thanks again for the meditation techniques."

"You are most welcome," T'Pol responded as the Ensign rose and began to walk towards the door. "Hoshi?"

Hoshi stopped at looked at T'Pol curiously. "Yes?"

"I do not have romantic designs for Lt. Reed."

_Ah, so she noticed my slip. Oops!_ "I-um, T'Pol you don't have to justify your meeting with Malcolm to me."

"Ordinarily, no I would not. However, I have determined that you have romantic inclinations for him yourself."

_How in the world did she know that?_ "I-how- what makes you think that, Sub-Commander?"

"I have noticed your attention to him on the bridge when you believe him not to be looking," replied T'Pol calmly. "Among your species, looks of longing tend to be associated with feelings of sexual attachment. Thus, I deduced your desire for Lt. Reed. However, I am curious as to why you do not seem to have initiated a relationship with him."

_Well, it isn't as though I haven't tried!_ Hoshi thought bitterly. Out loud she said, "Well, you know, Malcolm has some funny ideas about things. He's very much against fraternizing..."

"So you have given up?"

"It seemed the most 'logical' course of action, Sub-Commander."

"I fail to see the logic in not pursuing something you desire. Especially if that desire will not cease." The very subject of their conversation was invoking feelings within T'Pol that she tried desperately to suppress at all times. However, feelings of desire made themselves known, along with a mental image of a certain blue-eyed engineer. A sharp pain in T'Pol's head made her wince slightly. Hoshi, however, was too caught up in her own thoughts to notice.

"I didn't think Vulcans would find any logic in following desire."

_Nor did I._ "Desire is not subject to the rules of logic, Ensign."

Hoshi didn't try to hide the surprise in her voice. "You are encouraging me to do something illogical?"

"You are a human. Such a course of action is the most logical one for your species," replied T'Pol.

"I guess it is more logical to confront what you want instead of longing for it," Hoshi mused.

Longing. The head discomfort increased tenfold and T'Pol could only momentarily see blackness in front of her.

"Are you alright, T'Pol?" asked a very concerned Hoshi.

"I am fine, Ensign," T'Pol responded.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should head to sickbay—"

"No. I am fine. I do need to go meet with the Captain and Commander Tucker."

"Well, good night then."

"Good night. Remember, Ensign Sato, if your species had given up on space travel as easily as you have given up on Lt. Reed, neither of us would be standing on the Enterprise."

Hoshi grinned in spite of herself. "Yep, and Malcolm's just one of those men that have to be approached by the woman first." As she turned to walk out the door, she called over her shoulder, "So is Trip."


	7. The Experiment Winds Down: Vulcan Security Headquarters

Sumarek always appreciated the moments in which he was able to meet with V'Lar. The older Vulcan woman was one of the few that Sumarek believed truly embraced all the logical teachings of Surak. This did not prevent her from also being quite pleasant company.

This evening was one of those fortunate events. After what Sumarek deemed to be an unproductive meeting this morning, he had looked forward to a more agreeable evening. While their official purpose was to discuss V'Lar's last security mission during which she had visited the Enterprise, the discussion was taking place over a relaxing game of chess.

"Did the council reach a decision this morning, Sumarek?" V'Lar inquired.

"Of a sort," Sumarek remarked as his rook overtook V'Lar's pawn.

"Interesting move," V'Lar commented as her bishop replaced Sumarek's queen. " 'Of a sort'?" she inquired.

"Yes." Sumarek studied the chess board for a moment before continuing. "They have decided that if any positive aspects can be found for melding, then they will consider taking steps to rid ourselves of the laws against them." His scrutiny complete, Sumarek advanced his pawn's position. The action had no adverse affect on V'Lar's pieces.

"Positive aspects? Did no one consider the vague nature of such a term?" Inquired V'Lar as she made her own inoffensive move.

"Yes. 'Positive aspects' have been defined as medicinal purposes, scientific advancement, or logic enhancing circumstances." Sumarek broke the tradition of inoffensive moves and successfully captured V'Lar's previously offensive bishop with a lowly pawn. "Check."

Moving her king out of harm's way, V'Lar quirked an eyebrow. "Does the council intend to conduct experiments to help them determine if the melders can offer any of these benefits?"

"No."

"Ah. The reason for the 'of a sort.'?"

"Yes."

They continued on for a moment, taking turns at "Checking" each other until Sumarek prompted, "Your report on the Enterprise incident was interesting. What was your interpretation of the crew?"

"Check." V'Lar paused to consider her answer. During her pause, Sumarek moved his king out of harm's way. Finally she commented, "Their dedication is impressive. They are a determined species and I foresee great scientific and diplomatic contributions by them."

Sumarek inclined his head and remarked, "That is a quite different interpretation than Soval frequently gives."

V'Lar nodded. "Soval is frequently hasty in his judgments."

As V'Lar advanced her pawn's position, Sumarek remarked, "I have read the reports of Sub-Commander T'Pol. It would seem that she is most frequently in agreement with you."

At the mention of her former protg, V'Lar's eyes twinkled and her lips twitched with the only expression of a smile any self-respecting Vulcan would allow. "True. It is difficult to ascertain exactly which side shall reap more benefits from the mutual time in space."

Sumarek nodded. "This chess board is quite unique. This is my first encounter with a 3-D chess board. Where did you obtain it?"

* * *

_The Enterprise_

_Desire and longing are pain inducing stimuli._ T'Pol mentally categorized the effects of emotions Hoshi had inflicted, albeit unconsciously, as the Vulcan walked towards the Captain's Dining Hall.

As she relived the contents of her conversation with Hoshi , she recalled the last words spoken by the linguist. "So is Trip." Anger, T'Pol reflected, did not induce head discomfort.

Standing outside the entrance, T'Pol took several deep breaths to try to calm herself. She anticipated the necessity of doing so, considering who was waiting on the other side of the door. _Anticipation is not a pain inducing stimulus either,_ she noted. _Intriguing. Anticipation and longing are similar emotions. It is most curious as to why one induces pain and the other does not._

Resolutely, T'Pol squared her shoulders and walked into the dining hall, only to find that disappointment could join anticipation rather than longing as a similar stimulus. Waiting for her was only Captain Archer. Charles Tucker III was nowhere to be seen.

"Greetings, Captain," T'Pol remarked stoically as she sat down in her normal position.

"Good evening, T'Pol," Archer replied cheerfully. "I'm afraid it's just you and me tonight."

Archer was delighted to note the furrowing of T'Pol's eyebrows. It was one of the few instances in which his reserved science officer expressed emotion with her facial responses. He waited patiently for the comment he was certain that was following.

He was not disappointed. "Am I to understand that Commander Tucker is still working on engine repairs?" she asked.

"Yep," Archer replied as the yeomans brought in their food.

Picking up her fork, T'Pol remarked, "He requires nourishment."

Archer grinned at her as he cut into his own steak. "Why, T'Pol, is that concern for Trip I hear in your voice?"

_I believe I bypassed concern approximately after the incident with Koss._ T'Pol reflected ruefully. To Archer, she replied, "What you hear is concern for the productivity level of the ship's chief engineer. With a lowered level of nourishment, the Commander will cease to be a productive engineer. If he is not a productive engineer, the engines most likely will not be repaired in time for us to rendezvous with the Vulcan and Andorian forces. If we are late, the peace treaty is likely to not be signed."

_If I didn't know better, I'd say T'Pol was just rambling. Or being defensive. Or both._ Whatever it was, Archer knew it was emotional. A slight twinge of jealously coursed through him as he realized that Trip was able to instill an emotional response when he himself was not. Still, his role as Captain of the ship took precedent over any personal feelings Archer may have had. And Archer had been hearing strange mumblings from his crew all day regarding Sub-Commander T'Pol. Words that would never normally be associated with the Vulcan, such as friendly and chit-chat, popped up in conversations throughout the ship.

True, no one had directly approached Archer about her behavior. But any good Captain can hear the slightest undercurrent of tension on his ship. Tension perhaps was too strong of a word. Confusion? In any event, Captain Archer was determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with his science officer.

"So, T'Pol...I hear you had breakfast this morning with Travis," Captain Archer started.

T'Pol looked up from her salad. "I did not see you in the mess hall during our meal. How did you hear of it?"

Archer shrugged. "It's a small ship. People talk. Especially if someone acts slightly out of behavior."

_Even the humans know that your behavior is unseemly for a Vulcan._ T'Pol reprimanded herself. Unwilling to share with the Captain the scope of her research, T'Pol told him, "It behooves the second in command to be well acquainted with her crew. I believe you have taken a similar command approach in your dealings with the crew." _First you encourage emotions, now you tell lies that serve no purpose. Still you have the audacity to consider yourself a Vulcan?_ Taking a bit of her salad, she mentally added, _It is only a matter of time before you begin to consume animal flesh._

_That was definitely defensive,_ Archer contemplated to himself. Deciding it best not to provoke the defensive side of T'Pol but still wishing to know more, he asked casually, "So, did you and Travis talk about anything interesting?"

"No."

Archer had been undertaking the unwise decision to take a drink of water when T'Pol responded. Her matter of fact response provoked a laugh at the same time the he was attempting to swallow. It was an unfortunate combination of events. After a minor coughing fit, Archer couldn't help but wonder exactly what T'Pol thought of some of their conversations.

"Are you well, Captain?" T'Pol inquired.

"Yes, T'Pol, I am fine. If you didn't discuss anything interesting, what did you talk about?"

_Nothing beneficial to my experiment._ "We discussed his father."

"Well, that is interesting," Archer argued.

"Interesting is a matter of perspective."

They ate in silence for a moment before T'Pol remarked, "Ensign Mayweather expressed an close relationship with his father. I believe you were also close with your father?"

_That was unexpected._ "Yes, my father and I were very close," he remarked, allowing T'Pol to finish the conversation if she wished. _The less I talk, the more she will. Perhaps that way I can see some more of this bizarre behavior my crew's been talking about._

"I inquired of Ensign Mayweather whether his childhood had helped prepare him for a career in space."

"Really?"

_The Captain is not his typical verbose self,_ T'Pol noted. "He took a considerable amount of offense at my questioning."

"Hmm."

_Why is he not talking?_ "Captain, are you well?"

"Yes, T'Pol. Why do you ask?"

"You are not behaving as your normal self."

_I'M not?_ Archer thought disbelievingly. _I hope you appreciate the irony of THAT statement, T'Pol._ Ignoring her concern, he asked, "Why did he take offense?"

"I believe he incorrectly assumed I was questioning his abilities," she remarked.

"Ah."

"Your childhood must have presented a starting foundation for your current occupation." T'Pol phrased her statement as a question.

"Mmm hmm."

Exasperation joined anticipation and anger on T'Pol's mental list. " In what way?"

_I wonder if this is some type of Vulcan experiment to determine what makes humans tick,_ Archer pondered. Not that he didn't trust T'Pol...but the "let's get to know you" theme of the conversation was truly throwing him for a loop. "My father was my hero. Who I wanted to be when I grew up."

Sensing that this line of questioning was useless, T'Pol switched topics. "Have you begun preparations for the Vulcan-Andorian peace treaty ceremony?" she asked.

"Some."

"Some?"

"Yep."

_This conversation is proving unproductive._ T'Pol decided. _It is obvious that Captain Archer is not invoking any discomforting emotions._ "If you'll excuse me, Captain, I must go. I have an appointment with another member of the crew shortly and I need to change."

"A date, T'Pol?"

"No," T'Pol responded and did not elaborate further. As she left, Archer was treated to the same feeling of exasperation T'Pol had felt at his reticence.

* * *

_Vulcan_

"Are you certain, Ventik?" Sumarek asked the Vulcan doctor.

"No. However, I find little other reason for Soval's irrational behavior. He remains in his quarters nearly constantly, refuses to be examined regardless of the regulations, and has verbally snapped at two crewmen," replied Ventik.

"I see. Even if your theory is incorrect, Soval could still be a threat to contract negotiations," Sumarek admitted.

Ventik nodded. "That is why I am contacting you."

"I thank you. T'Ling is headed back towards Earth, but V'Lar is here at the headquarters. She and I shall depart within the hour and should rendezvous with your ship before Soval can do any permanent damage. If Soval's time has come, she shall take his place in the negotiations."

Ventik nodded. "I shall see you then. Live long and prosper, Sumarek."

"Peace and long life, Ventik."

Sumarek allowed himself an audible sigh as he turned off the computer. "Checkmate," he mumbled softly.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Attack me," T'Pol instructed the lieutenant.

"Excuse me?" Malcolm asked in disbelief. Certainly he knew that Vulcans were twice as strong as humans. Nonetheless, attacking his senior officer was hardly proper. Even if she could render him unconscious with one pinch of her fingers.

"You must attack me, Lieutenant. Vulcan martial arts are intended to be a defensive measure, not offensive. In order for me to demonstrate defensive techniques, you must provoke me by becoming aggressive."

It was not proper in the enlightened times of the twenty-second century, but a twinge of guilt lurked in Malcolm's mind at the thought of attacking not only his senior officer but a woman as well. Not that attacking women was encouraged in the 22nd century, of course. Rather, Malcolm was concerned that his combat training would cause her more fragile body physical harm.

That concern exited Malcolm's brain at approximately the same time he found himself flat on his back looking up into T'Pol's face.

_Ouch._

"Are you alright, Lieutenant Reed?" T'Pol inquired?

Rising, Malcolm replied briskly, "Yes, of course. That was some maneuver, Sub-Commander."

T'Pol nodded. "Perhaps we should work up to it. Let us begin with a maneuver much less complex."

Malcolm made no move to argue with her. _Either way, I am going to have to pay a visit to sick bay before returning to my quarters,_ he noted regretfully.

"Stand still. Align your shoulders and feet," T'Pol instructed. Malcolm complied. To his surprise, T'Pol took his hands in hers and positioned them in a defensive gesture in front of face.

_I thought Vulcans never touched,_ Malcolm pondered. He did not have much time to ponder further as T'Pol resumed talking. "As I strike at you, clench your fists and move your arms up in a fan imitative gesture. When the opportunity presents itself, attempt to strike me as well."

Malcolm nodded and they commenced their sparring.

The workout area was far from empty. The armory officer and the science officer attracted several curious glances as they practiced their exercise regimen.

Among the voyeurs were Lt. Hess and Ensign Thomas. While Trip was working around the clock, he insisted that his crew get plenty of sleep and recreational time.

"What do you make of that, Lieutenant?" Thomas asked Hess.

"It would appear Sub-Commander T'Pol is exercising with Lt. Reed," replied Hess.

"Yeah, but since when?" Thomas remarked.

"Since the fire breathing dragon invaded engineering?" Hess suggested.

"Good point."

Oblivious to the conversation concerning them, Malcolm and T'Pol continued their workout. As T'Pol struck at Malcolm, she mentally added aggression to the list of non-offending emotions.

They switched sparring positions several times until both the armory officer and the science officer were panting slightly. In the end, Malcolm was able to successfully throw T'Pol onto her back.

"Quite efficient, Lieutenant," T'Pol commented as she rose off the floor.

_A compliment?_ Malcolm wondered. _First she takes my hand, now she compliments me?_ It certainly left Malcolm perplexed. If Travis and Hoshi hadn't warned him of her strange behavior, Malcolm would have been tempted to believe his friends' ribbings about her desire to become physical with him.

_I do not wish to conduct my experiment amongst the rest of the crew,_ T'Pol mentally noted. "Come, lieutenant, I shall escort you back to your quarters," she offered.

_Why?_ Malcolm wondered silently, his suspicion level rising. "Er, okay, Sub-Commander."

As they exited, Malcolm reflected that he most likely needed to take a shower or to go to sickbay for pain relief, but since T'Pol had indicated that she wished to follow him back to his quarters, he decided it best not to argue.

_I do not wish to pursue this conversation with the lieutenant._ T'Pol argued with herself. Still, T'Pol had begun to sense a pattern with her experiment, and she had anticipated her line of questions to provoke certain emotions to test the established pattern. _The end will justify the means._ A human expression, she reminded herself. _Unfortunately appropriate._

"Lt. Reed, I find you to be a most efficient officer," T'Pol began.

_Another compliment?_ "Thank you, Sub-Commander."

"I would like to continue our exercise regimen once a week," she added.

That surprised Malcolm. Still, there was no denying that the workout had increased his physical endurance. Undoubtedly a benefit in Malcolm's line of work. "That would be agreeable, Sub-Commander," he acquiesced.

"Excellent. Of course, if your social life would suffer in any way..."

_She touched me voluntarily, has given me two compliments, and now we're discussing my social life? Bloody hell._ "Er...no, Sub-Commander, I don't think my social life would suffer any at all."

"Are you certain? I surmise that you must have numerous amounts of female suitors."

_SUITORS?_ "Um, no, Sub-Commander, not exactly."

"May I inquire why not?"

"Starfleet expressly forbids—" "As I recall my human history, Starfleet has had a history of ignoring that rule. They have generally left the application of fraternization laws to up to the commanding officer."

"Yes, but—"

"And given Captain Archer's tendency to encourage fraternization amongst the crew, I do not understand your hesitation. Surely you do not fear adverse consequences."

_Why the scrutiny of my romantic life?_ Malcolm began to wonder if the profuse amounts of sweat he was producing could be attributed solely to his workout. "It depends on what you mean by consequences, Sub-Commander." _Bugger. Is the Sub-Commander really making advances towards me?_ No, Malcolm convinced himself. That simply was not in the realm of possibilities.

"Explain?"

"I am a senior officer. That is not a position I take lightly. To engage in any romantic relationship with any female aboard this ship would jeopardize my professionalism. Sub-Commander, are you alright?" Malcolm forgot his own misgivings about the conversation and grabbed T'Pol by the waist as she startled to tumble forward, clasping her head.

"I am uninjured, Lt. Reed. I offer my gratitude to you for preventing my fall."

"Let me help you to sickbay."

"I shall be returning there of my own accord later this evening," T'Pol remarked. "Your assistance is not required."

_Perhaps she does have a virus of some sort,_ Malcolm mused. _She does seem ill._ Malcolm was greatly relieved. Not only did it possibly explain her strange behavior-and conversation-but it would give him news of his own to relate to Hoshi and Travis. At the mention of Hoshi, Malcolm involuntarily smiled .

_Unless the lieutenant is practicing some form of sadism, I do not understand the reason for his smiling._ T'Pol was confused. _Perhaps he is having a private conversation. Much as I have been doing for the past 20 hours._

"Pleasant thoughts, Lieutenant?" T'Pol inquired.

Malcolm flushed furiously. "Um, yes, Sub-Commander."

They had arrived at Malcolm's quarters.

"I assume your thoughts had wandered to that of Ensign Sato?" T'Pol further interrogated the armory officer.

"What makes you think that?" demanded Malcolm. Although the volume of his voice did not change, the difference in tone definitely denoted a switch in moods. The lieutenant was not pleased with her, T'Pol guessed.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow in response. "Goodnight, Lieutenant." Without waiting for a reply, she turned to leave a very angry, very confused Malcolm to stare after her.

T'Pol was relieved to discover that her plan of getting Malcolm to discuss romantic attachment had worked. Because of his professionalism, he had been the obvious choice, as his concerns against fraternization paralleled hers. After the conversation with Hoshi, T'Pol had been certain that sexual and/or romantic emotions were a constant trigger. _That does not explain the pecan pie,_ a tiny part of her protested. _Does it not?_ responded another portion tauntingly.

As she walked towards her last appointment for the day before returning to sickbay to report her findings to the doctor, she pontificated on her encounter with Malcolm. It had produced two very distinct emotions-aggression and romantic attachment. T'Pol was as reluctant as Malcolm had been to admit the identity of her object of affection.


	8. Purposeful Deceit

T'Pol examined the contents of the refrigeration unit carefully. Most of the contents disgusted her. However, it was not her own tastes she needed to consider.

Finding leftovers of what the Captain and Commander Tucker had called "Meat Loaf," T'Pol carefully removed two slices and placed them on a tray next to a serving of carrots, two slices of bread, and a piece of pecan pie. While T'Pol did not approve of eating meat, she did acknowledge the logic involved in the dish. A person consuming such a dish would benefit from protein, carbohydrate, and vegetable intake simultaneously. An efficient dish, notwithstanding its vulgarity. Finally, she poured a glance of orange juice and set it on the tray next to the food as well as a glass of tea for herself.

Sitting down at a table to wait, she reflected once again how un-Vulcan her behavior was. _It is necessary._ she maintained. _Commander Tucker is another of many variables. His presence here shall contribute to my findings and is no different than that of Lt. Reed, Ensign Sato, or the Captain._

_You are already aware of the reactions Commander Tucker provokes._ she chided herself.

_Those emotions were uncontrolled. Now that I have a list of offending and non-offending emotions, I can determine whether it is emotions that Commander Tucker provokes that caused me discomfort or his presence in and of itself._

Considering the implications of the latter possibility, T'Pol fully understood the essentialness of this portion of the experiment. Even if it was going to be more difficult than even her conversation with Lt. Reed had been.

* * *

"Jazz?"

"Yes, it is a musical form. Haven't you heard of it before?"

"No, I have not. Is it as illogical as your 'rock and roll'?"

_Laughter._ "No, this one's much more to your liking. Trust me."

* * *

_I should not have._

"T'Pol?" the impatient voice of Commander Tucker interrupted T'Pol's thoughts.

"Greetings, Commander Tucker."

Seeing the plate of food in front of T'Pol, Trip contemplated when the Vulcan had started to eat meat. Agitatedly, he ran a hand through his ruffled blond locks as he inquired, "Your message said it was urgent."

"It is. Please have a seat."

"Look, T'Pol, I don't have a lot of time. The Cap'n—"

"You require nourishment in order to continue working efficiently."

"I'll grab somethin' later. I gotta get back to the engines." Trip turned and started to walk towards the door.

"I—" T'Pol's voice failed her as she watched the retreating form of the engineer. The familiarity of a blond form walking away destroyed her resolve.

Trip had heard her, however, and although he was still busy and agitated, something in her tone made him re-evaluate his plan and he turned back around. "Ya what?"

Straightening her shoulders, "I require your assistance as well."

"For what?"

"It concerns my illness."

"Thought ya said that was none of my concern," Trip pointed out.

"Did I cause you reason for offense?"

Trip ignored her question. "Maybe someone else can help ya. Are ya sure ya don't want Malcolm, maybe?"

_It would appear that Commander Tucker is resentful of the time I spend with Lt. Reed,._ T'Pol noted. The notion stirred the slightest feeling of pleasure within her, similar to the sensation she had experienced on the bridge earlier in the day. It also installed a similar visible sign of head discomfort. His agitation at her forgotten, Trip was at her side in a moment. "Ya alright, T'Pol?"

"I am well, Commander."

"Bullshit."

"There is no logical reason for profanity, Commander."

"Is there a logical reason to lie about being well when ya obviously aren't?"

"Vulcans do not lie, Commander." _Although I have once today._ "I will be going to sickbay following our conversation. I apologize if you believe me to have been dishonest with you."

_Why am I such an ass?_ Trip wondered guiltily. "No, T'Pol, it's me that should be sorry." Taking a seat, he flashed her his famous Tucker smile. "It's been a real rough shift with the engines."

T'Pol nodded. "All the more reason for you to require nourishment," she replied, pushing the tray towards him.

"Aww, T'Pol, I didn't know ya cared," Trip teased as he eyed the meatloaf. The sound erupting from his stomach proved T'Pol's point to be true.

_It is fortunate that you were unaware of my affection._ T'Pol reflected. She watched fascinated, as Trip threw the two slabs of meatloaf onto a slice of bread, layered the carrots on top, and carefully placed the remaining slab of bread on top of the whole conglomeration before pressing them firmly together. "So, how can I help ya, T'Pol?" he asked before taking a large bite out of his sandwich.

In response, T'Pol laid the hypospray on the table. "First, during our conversation, if I experience any head discomfort, you must apply this hypospray to my neck."

_Wow, she must really be sick,_ Trip thought. _I really am a bastard._ he added, guiltily. "Sure thing, T'Pol."

"Secondly, although you are eating, I must require that you talk as well."

"How's that gonna help?"

"Please do not ask me to explain, Commander. I cannot. Not yet." _The experiment is incomplete._

Trip shrugged. "Fair enough," he replied, taking another large bite of his sandwich. "What'd ya want me to talk about?" he asked, though his bites of food.

"Please refrain from talking while in the midst of chewing your food, Commander."

"Sorry. Thought ya wanted me to talk."

"Is it too much to ask that you swallow first?"

Trip obliged her request by swallowing before stating, "Nope."

"I wish for you first to discuss something bland."

"Bland?"

"Yes. Something that does not provoke any emotion."

"Uh, okay." Trip thought for a moment. _She thinks everything I say is 'emotional.'_ he thought contritely. "How about warp drive mechanics?"

"No."

"No?"

"You tend to become too...passionate when discussing them."

"Well, I wouldn't be a 'competent engineer' if I didn't, would I?" he teased her.

_My careless words used against me,_ mourned T'Pol. _It is fortunate the man does not know anything more personal concerning my beliefs in his abilities._

"How 'bout Porthos?"

"No. He is attached to Captain Archer who is your friend, for whom you have feelings."

"Meat loaf?"

"No. Humans attach much emotion to food."

"Uh huh. And Vulcans don't?"

"No."

"Then why can't ya eat meat?"

"Discuss the alphabet."

_Can't get much more bland than that._ Trip thought. "Uh, anything particular you want me to say about it?"

"No. Recitation will suffice."

_The woman called me away from repairing the engines to recite the alphabet?_ "The English alphabet okay? Cuz Hoshi's the linguist. My skills aren't —"

"Your skills shall suffice, Commander. Proceed."

"Um, okay. Uh, A, B, C..."

As Trip continued to go through the alphabet, T'Pol mentally noted that when the Commander was discussing a bland subject, there was no discernable discomfort she felt relief. _It is not the Commander's mere presence that is enough to incite head discomfort._ "You may stop."

""But we're only at T," Trip protested.

"I am aware of how it ends. I need you to insult me."

"Why do—"

"Please, Commander. We have very little time. Insult me." _So that I may eliminate negative emotions from my list of offending ones._

_Two years ago, I woulda been happy to oblige ya, T'Pol. Now I'm havin' trouble comin' up with an effective one._ "Uhhh...Your logic is damn annoying."

"That is not an insult."

"Sure it is," Trip argued.

"If you wish to assist me in discovering the nature of my illness, you must do a more efficient job."

"Fine. Any ideas what I should use as an insult?"

"You must say something that would...I believe the phrase is 'hurt my feelings', if I were human and had such illogical emotions."

Trip scowled. _Damn stubborn Vulcan. If ya didn't have 'feelin's ya wouldn't ask me to come up with somethin' to 'hurt them.'_ And, Trip knew, he didn't want to. Still, she needed his help. "Alright . .. you're a bad science officer."

"You are an engineer. You do not have any expertise in the area. Thus it is again an ineffective insult."

Trip sighed. T'Pol realized his reluctance and assured him, "Commander, your concern for me is displaced. I am a Vulcan; I do not have emotions. Regardless of how harsh your comment may be, I will not be offended."

"Then why do ya need me ta say it?" Trip demanded.

_His logic tonight is nearly flawless. Or is it merely that I have lost control of mine?_ Ignoring his question, she commented, "Perhaps you could insult my abilities as second in command. With reasons that you believe me to be incompetent."

"But I don't," Trip protested.

"Commander. It is important," T'Pol stated.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it._ "Fine. Ya...ya don't know anything about commandin' a Earth vessel full of humans. Ya shouldn't be second in command and ya are only here to babysit us because the Vulcans don't think we can handle it by ourselves." Trip rushed through his sentence, hating saying every word.

It was, T'Pol reflected, an effective insult. Effective enough to cause her a degree of hurt. Another non-offending emotion.

"T'Pol? How was that? I didn't mean it, ya know. Ya do a real good job at being in command. Hell, a lot better than I do," he said hurriedly.

"I am not offended, Commander. Your apology is unnecessary." _Neither negative nor neutral emotions effect me, even when in the presence of Commander Tucker. It would appear that positive and possessive emotions are what cause discomfort._ Still, it was necessary to test that theory.

"I'd offer ya a bite of the pie, T'Pol, but considerin' how ya acted last time, I don't think that's a good idea," Trip remarked, taking a bite of the dessert.

Ignoring him, T'Pol instructed, "Please discuss either Ah'len, Kaitaama, or Liana."

Trip regarded her for a moment, taking his own sweet time in swallowing his food. Finally, he remarked, "Why?"

"I cannot tell you. Yet."

_What do any of 'em have to do with T'Pol? Well, I'm definitely not gonna discuss Ah'len. The more we forget that, the better._ "Well, they don't really have a lot in common ya know. Ah'len, well, ya know all about her. Liana was real sweet and -T'Pol? T'POL?"

The science officer was cupping her head in her hands. She managed to whisper, "Hypo," as she did not have the strength to pick it up herself.

Quickly, Trip picked up the instrument and pressed it to her neck. Within moments, she was looking visibly better. "Jesus, T'Pol, what was that?" Trip demanded.

"I cannot tell you yet." _He has not discerned the nature of my possessive feelings. I am gratified for that._

"You really need to get to sick bay."

"You are correct," stated T'Pol as she rose. Trip rose as well. "Commander, before we depart, I would like to express my thanks for your help by demonstrating the Vulcan form of goodbye."

"Um, isn't it this?" Trip asked, holding up his hand in the split V gesture he was familiar with. "Along with 'Live long and prosper?'"

"That is appropriate only when there is a period of prolonged goodbye, Commander. You are not going anywhere anytime soon. Further, it is a less...affectionate goodbye than the one I am about to demonstrate."

_She's gonna be affectionate? That's the stuff dreams are made of._ Trip thought. "Affectionate, T'Pol?"

"Yes. This goodbye is appropriate for acquaintances. Perhaps what a human would call a 'friend,'" T'Pol responded. _A second lie._

"Oh," Trip said, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. _Get a grip, Trip. That's all you are, and you know it._

_I do not wish to do this._ "Arrange your fingers into a fist." _It must be done. I must be certain if the feelings of desire affect me within a controlled setting._ "Now extend your forefinger and index finger."

_Hmm. I've never seen this type of Vulcan gesture before,_ Trip mused. "Like this?"

"Yes," responded T'Pol. Slowly, T'Pol allowed the walls of defense she had carefully built against the Commander to fall. Copying the gesture made by Commander Tucker, she leaned forward and touched her fingers to his.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Commander Tucker was left with an unconscious Vulcan. He applied the hypo to her neck, with no change in her condition.

Hurriedly, Trip made his way to the Comm Unit and contacted sickbay. "Dr. Phlox, medical emergency to the mess hall. It's T'Pol."

"Understood, Commander. On my way."

Leaning over the frail Vulcan's body, Trip grumbled, "You'd better be alright, T'Pol. Cuz when ya wake up, ya and I are gonna have a nice little chat about this illness of yours."


	9. Questions In Sickbay

Phlox watched in quiet fascination as Trip laid T'Pol down on the biobed. His movements were equally possessive and respectful. In addition, his whole attention was focused on the Sub-Commander herself.

_It would make an absolutely fascinating entry into the Interspecies Medical Journal_ Phlox noted. Briefly, he pondered the ethical implications of keeping a journal on Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol's interactions for an article on interspecies mating habits.

"Doc? Shouldn't you be doin' somethin'?" Trip asked, interrupting the musings of the physician.

If the situation had been less grim, Phlox would have chuckled at Trip's protective nature and reminded the engineer which one of them was the doctor. But considering the circumstances, all the physician would remark is "No, Commander. I gave the Sub-Commander the only medication I can for her condition in the mess hall. The biobed is monitoring her brain waves and heart rate as we speak. The Sub-Commander will awaken on her own."

"Oh," Trip said softly. "Her illness...it's pretty bad, huh?" "She has not shared the nature of her illness with you?" Phlox questioned.

"No," Trip replied sounding a bit angry with his admission. His admission did incite surprise on Phlox's behalf. After all, the Vulcan had collapsed twice while in the presence of the engineer. Surely, that was enough to warrant her confiding in him. _Vulcans are a very private people,_ he reminded himself. Still, there was a thin line between being private and being foolish.

"Commander, if you don't mind my asking, what exactly was the nature of your conversation with Sub-Commander T'Pol tonight?" he asked gently.

Trip shrugged. "We discussed a lot of things. Most of it didn't make a whole lot of sense." He paused for a moment. "Actually, T'Pol's behavior didn't make a whole lot of sense tonight," he remarked, remembering the meatloaf she had prepared for him. "Really?" the Denobulan asked.

"Yeah." Trip paused a bit and glanced down at the sleeping form of T'Pol, as if to gain her permission for what he was about to share with the doctor.

Sensing his hesitation, Phlox assured Trip. "What you are about to tell me will stay in the strictest of confidence, Commander. Further, it may very well help in my diagnosis of the Sub-Commander."

Trip nodded nervously. "Well, if it'll help T'Pol...first, she asked me to recite the alphabet. Said she wanted to hear me discuss somethin' bland."

At this Phlox did chuckle. "It doesn't get much more bland than recitation of the alphabet, although I suspect Ensign Sato would disagree with us. Is that when the Sub-Commander passed out, after your recitation?"

Trip shook his head. "No. Then she asked me insult her. Real adamant about it, too." Scowling, he remarked, "No insult was good enough for her. Or bad enough, I suppose."

_Ah, T'Pol must have been trying to determine the effect of a variety of emotions._ "After you insulted her, is this when she passed out?" the Denobulan asked, noting with interest the ashamed look that displayed itself on Tucker's features. _Why? She did ask for the insult._

"Nah. She was fine, even though I felt like the scum eaten by the lowliest amoeba," Trip grumbled.

"I see. What did you discuss next?"

"That's the weird part. She asked me to discuss Ah'len, Kaitamma, or Liana," the engineer noted, the confusion still in his voice. "I couldn't figure out what that had to do with her illness. Ya have any idea, doc?"

_I certainly do, but I'm afraid I can't tell you, Commander Tucker._ Phlox thought to himself. To Trip, he replied, "Is that when she passed out?"

"Nope. She did have a pretty bad headache, though. That's when I gave her the hypospray and suggested she get to sickbay. She agreed but wanted to show me the Vulcan form of goodbye...the affectionate form, she called it."

_This would perhaps be the first time Sub-Commander T'Pol has used the phrase affectionate in the entire time she has been on the Enterprise,_ Phlox noted. "What exactly did she show you was the 'affectionate' form of goodbye?" he inquired.

When Trip described the method to Phlox, the physician was unable to prevent a most unprofessional laugh from escaping his mouth. At Trip's quizzical look, Phlox simply shook his head. "That, I take it, is when she passed out?"

"Yep," Trip confirmed.

"Well, I thank you, Commander. This information will be most useful when the Sub-Commander wakes up. In the meantime, I must request you to exit sickbay."

"But—"

Phlox shook his head. "It's not up for debate, Commander. When the Sub-Commander awakes, she and I will need to have a very personal conversation. Given her Vulcan nature, she most likely will want as few people in the room as possible." At Trip's crestfallen expression, he added, "Besides, with all the work you've been doing in engineering lately, I'm sure you need to get some sleep before your shift begins."

"Right," Trip agreed, running his hand through his hair guiltily. "The engines. I do have to go." Turning to leave, he paused and added, "Take good care of 'er, Doc." before dashing out the door.

_Why is he in such a hurry? Did he think I would say no?_ Phlox wondered in amazement. _Of course, the human's behavior is nothing compared to that of T'Pol_ Phlox had never believed he would live long enough to hear of a Vulcan trying to seduce a human and lying about it.

The humor Phlox felt left him immediately when he glanced at his scanners. _I hope the kiss was worth it, T'Pol,_ he thought forlornly. _Because your body is paying dearly for it._

* * *

It was a considerable amount of time later when T'Pol awoke. Finding herself in sickbay, she surmised that the last portion of her experiment had gone exactly as she had anticipated. Raising up, she found her head to still ache incredibly. There was also not a tiny amount of disappointment with the fact that she did not see the presence of Commander Tucker. _He has returned to the engine room, as it only logical for him to do in a moment of crisis. He has only 4.12 days left to get the engines back online and you have served as a suitable distraction for long enough._

_But, he did require nourishment to remain effective,_ T'Pol reminded herself as she began to rise off the bed.

"Ah, Sub-Commander, I see you've awaken," greeted the cheerful voice of Dr. Phlox. At her nod, he continued, "After speaking with Commander Tucker, I have discerned you were testing yourself to see what type of emotions provoked response?"

"That is correct," T'Pol answered, relieved she did not have to explain her experiment to Dr. Phlox. The physician seemed to understand, as though it made perfect logical sense for her to behave in such a fashion. _He understands the scientific nature of my experiment,_ T'Pol noted. "May I inquire of your findings?"

"I have determined that most emotions do not have any type of affect on me. The only ones that do are feelings of possession and..." T'Pol paused.

_Ah, possession. That explains the Commander's discussion of previous sexual partners._ "Sexual attraction?" Phlox guessed.

He was rewarded with the only way any Vulcan would acknowledge surprise. The delightful eyebrow raise. "That is correct. How did you realize this?"

"I had a most enlightening conversation with Commander Tucker. He explained your sharing the 'Vulcan form of goodbye.'"

T'Pol was rather relieved to know that shame was not among her list of offending emotions.

"Having spent time on Vulcan, I had known that gesture to be a very intimate one. The Vulcan equivalent of a kiss."

Sensing that he was waiting for an answer, T'Pol responded, "What would you have me say, Doctor? You know the meaning of the gesture. I needed to test my hypothesis with the Commander. I could not very well tell the Commander the truth. If I had, he would have likely fallen under the mistaken impression that I care for him in a manner that I do not."

_If you do not, then why did he provoke such a response?_ Phlox wondered. "Of course, the only logical thing to do was lie."

"Yes."

Still wondering about the method in which T'Pol was coming up with her 'logic,' Phlox shook his head. "Well, while you've been sleeping, I have been able to make some progess on your illness."

T'Pol laced her hands behind her back, in her waiting gesture. "What have you discerned, Doctor?"

"I've eliminated pon frell."

"The headaches are not a symptom of the illness."

"As I understand it, the Vulcan time of mating can encompass a variety of symptoms," Phlox replied. "However, there is no increase of adrenaline that accompanies pon frell and pon far."

"It is a...pleasing thought that the time of inconvenience is not upon us, Doctor. We would not be able to return to Vulcan for several more weeks."

"It is not as pleasant as it sounds, T'Pol," the doctor admitted with a sigh. "Your brain is being affected rather strongly. The medial insula region has swollen since the last time we spoke. I believe if we do not determine a cause and a cure, then..."

The doctor paused only momentarily, but long enough for T'Pol to finish his sentence. "I will die."

"Yes."

T'Pol nodded. "My death is likely to be accelerated in either event, Doctor. We did already determine that the treatments for the Pa'nar Syndrome are not effective in my case."

"Perhaps it is this new illness of yours that is interfering with the treatment."

"Perhaps."

"I have been trying to contact Yuris," Phlox told her, again invoking the Vulcan form of surprise.

"You believe my illness is somehow related to Tolaris' mind meld but unrelated to the Pa'nar Syndrome?" she inquired.

"It is a possibility, T'Pol."

"If that were true, then would the illness not have become apparent sooner?"

"The scanners indicate long term damage in the medial insula region as well as swelling. Much longer than a couple of hours, or even a couple weeks," replied the Doctor.

"I see. Do what you can, Doctor," she replied as she started to leave.

"T'Pol?"

The sound of her name caused her to pause in her progression. "Yes, doctor?"

"If it had been pon frell, I doubt you would have needed to return to Vulcan for a mate."

_Is he correct? Would I have allowed such an illness to serve as an excuse to do what I long for?_ "In that event, I would have died as well, Doctor. Perhaps the two situations are not as different as we believe." With that, T'Pol did leave sickbay, and a very confused Doctor Phlox in her wake.


	10. Dinner And A Show

Trip was in an excellent mood. They had made tremendous progress in engineering that day. So much so that Trip no longer felt guilty for taking a quick dinner break with T'Pol and the Captain. Most of the progress was due to the fact that T'Pol had been helping them out from her post on the bridge. Trip had wondered once or twice why she didn't just come down to engineering herself. Still, her voice had sounded steady and there was no sign of her illness that had so worried him hours before. On the other hand, she had been abnormally quiet this evening. He could fix that, of course.

"Don't your salads ever get borin', T'Pol?"

She responded with an unreadable expression. "No." _Short answers are the most appropriate. They are the ones most unlikely to provoke an emotional response._

_Hmm. That was kinda brief._ "Ya sure? I mean, how many combinations of the same vegetables can you use before you start to get bored?"

"Boredom is not a factor in determining consumption, Commander. Unlike humans, Vulcans view food entirely as fuel. A morsel's enjoyment is not considered."

"Yeah, but variety is the spice of life, T'Pol," Trip argued.

"That's true, T'Pol," Archer remarked taking a sip of his iced tea.

"There are an infinite number of combinations of vegetables and fruits that combine to make salads," T'Pol responded. "I also consume soups and other non-meat forms of nourishment. My diet is not lacking in variety."

"Yeah, but you can't really have any great soups. Chili, for example," Trip remarked.

"I have sampled vegetarian chili, Commander Tucker," the Vulcan replied.

"It's not the same thing. In a good pot of chili, you mix meat, corn, peppers, onions, and pork all together," Trip informed her.

"Before pouring it over a bowl of nachos," Archer agreed.

"Ever had it with spaghetti?" Trip asked the Captain.

"No, can't say that I have," Archer remarked. "Can't say I like the sound of it, either."

"Ah, but it's really good that way. Had it once in Indiana. The waitress called it 'Midwestern Chili.'"

"I was under the belief that chili was a unique product of the Southwestern portion of the United States," T'Pol questioned, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Originally, it was. But there are regional variations," Trip informed her. "Hey, I bet we can get Chef to whip up some veggie chili over pasta for ya. That has to be more excitin' than eatin' the same salads all the time. And ya'd get your nourishment too," he added as an afterthought.

"That would be agreeable," T'Pol responded, trying not to focus on Trip's inherent interest in her well being. Instead, she tried to concern herself with a false sense of irritation at the engineer for concerning himself with her affairs. "Although Commander, I still assure you, Vulcans do not need variety. It is a human affliction." _One I have had direct experience with._ "It is not always a pleasant condition."

_What the hell does that mean?_ Trip wondered. Still, remembering that she was in all likelihood sick, he maintained his silence. Sneaking a glance at the Captain, Trip also felt more than a smidgen of guilt for not telling his friend what had transpired in the Mess Hall-in either instance. He wondered whether he should. But maybe T'Pol already had. _Is there a discreet way I can ask either him or her without stirring up his suspicions or her distrust?_ Probably not, he thought in disgust as he stabbed his food somewhat viciously.

_The discrepant food consumption patterns of humans and Vulcans show a great deal about the nature of our differences as individuals,_ T'Pol reflected. Humans and their incessant need for variety-to move on and try new things. Always. They are never content with what they had, regardless of the potential benefits the current situation may provide. Vulcans in contrast, content themselves with plomeek soup, salad, and fruit.

Humans, she reflected, also still practiced the concept of eating meat. A particularly barbaric practice Vulcans had learned to purge. _Just as I too will purge this illness._

Archer had patiently been observing them both. _No one could say the Sub-Commander is acting out of sorts tonight._ On the contrary, she was her normally reserved self. There was no talk of childhoods or attempt to make small talk. When she did speak, her words had been a constant reminder of her Vulcan nature. _She's been reinforcing our differences all night. Wonder if she realizes just how similar she proved we are yesterday?_

As all three dinner companions were wrapped up in their thoughts-T'Pol trying to repress any emotional response she may have been inclined to feel, Trip balancing guilt and loyalty; and Archer studying his crewmembers-they ate in virtual silence until desert arrived.

_It's a good thing we're not having pecan pie tonight_ Trip thought to himself as he tasted his jello. _The last two times I've had it in T'Pol's presence, she's passed out. Hmm. Maybe it has something to do with pecans._ "Hey, T'Pol? Can I ask ya a question?"

"Yes, Commander Tucker?"

Trip scowled. _I've carried the woman to sickbay twice in a twenty-four hour time span. Why can't she drop the formality?_ "Can't you call me Trip?" he asked, irritated.

"Is that the question you wished to ask?"

"No. But we'll start there and build up to what I wanted to ask."

"No."

"No? No ya can't call me Trip or no we can't build up to the other question?"

"No, I cannot call you Trip."

"Why not? Trip is my name."

"It is not."

"Trip, maybe you should move on to whatever it is you wanted to ask," Archer interjected. _They were getting along so well only moments ago, now they're fighting over something as childish as names?_

"Right," Trip grumbled. "Anyway, I knew this kid once who was real allergic to peanuts. Real allergic. Anytime there were any peanut products around, he'd get almost deathly ill. The smell alone was enough to put him in the hospital for weeks."

"Didn't his parents take him to see a doctor?" asked Archer.

"Yeah, but the medication was something he had to apply everyday, and he forgot once or twice," Trip recalled.

"What exactly is your question, Commander?" T'Pol asked.

"Well...uh, I just thought...since they probably don't have the same nuts on Vulcan as they do on Earth, you should probably get checked to make sure you don't um, have allergies to any...nuts," he finished lamely.

"Nuts, Trip?" Archer asked in disbelief. "Whatever made you think to ask that?"

T'Pol did not have to ask the same question. She knew why the man had inquired of nuts. It was not peanuts he referred to. In this instance the offending substances were pecans. More specifically, pecan pie. T'Pol did not allow herself to dwell on what that meant. Instead, she focused on the reddish jello in the bowl in front of her.

"...T'Pol would have had the basic allergy test. Wouldn't you, T'Pol?" Archer inquired.

"Yes, Captain, I have and no, Commander Tucker, I am not allergic to pecans," she replied. She did notice the slightly confused look that came across Archer's face when she referenced the offending substance by name. She allowed the unasked question to remain unanswered.

_No, I am not allergic to pecans. However, I do wonder if it is possible to be allergic to a human,_ T'Pol reflected. Unwillingly, her mind reviewed all of the instances that had occurred in the past twenty-four hours, coming to rest at the intimate gesture she had initiated, foolishly with Commander Tucker.

Unfortunately, that memory sparked yet another immense headache.

"Are you alright, T'Pol?" asked the caring voice of the engineer seated to her left. She did not respond immediately, as she was trying to suppress the emotional outburst that had allowed her to express her discomfort in front of the Captain and Commander Tucker.

Her lapse in responding compelled Trip to gently reach over and touch her hand. A very human gesture used to express concern. Nonetheless, the intimacy of the gesture sparked waves of passion coursing through her body. Quickly, she jerked her hand away. "Do not touch!" she hissed and promptly pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes to maintain greater distance from the men in the room. This would, T'Pol believed, help to strengthen her feeling of isolation and thus resolve her headache. Her theory proved correct. By the time she opened her eyes, her headache had lessened greatly.

"Can you make it to sickbay or do you need me to call Dr. Phlox to come here?" Archer asked with notable concern in his voice. _His concern for my well being does not incite physical discomfort,_ she noted.

To Archer she replied, "Neither is necessary, Captain."

Archer shook his head. "You nearly passed out, T'Pol. You need to see the doctor."

"I have seen him already," she replied calmly. "He is aware of my situation."

"Trip," Archer said firmly, "will you excuse the Sub-Commander and myself? I believe we need to talk."

"With all due respect, Cap'n," Trip began, but stopped when Archer raised his hand to halt the protest.

"Excuse us, Commander," Archer said simply. He didn't sound very happy, and as much as Trip wanted to stay to find out what was wrong with T'Pol, he knew better than to argue with his friend when he was in such an irritable mood.

Before he left, Trip turned to look back at T'Pol and sheepishly muttered, "I'm sorry for touchin' ya, T'Pol...I-I know Vulcans don't like it." Then he left.

When they were alone, Archer folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath before saying to T'Pol, "As Captain of this ship, I have a right to know when one of my crew's safety is in danger. Particularly my second in command. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Then do you care to explain exactly why the hell you have ignored this protocol? Not once, but twice now?"

T'Pol struggled to control her own anger. She decided that her near inability to do so was the direct result of her current illness. "The doctor and I are unaware of what my illness is. I was planning on waiting until I was certain of the extent of my disability before sharing it with you."

Archer frowned. "I suppose that makes sense. But in the future, I expect to be notified immediately, is that understood?"

T'Pol simply looked at him for a moment before responding, "Yes, Captain." She had very little strength to argue. The headaches, each time they came, were stronger and left her more fatigued.

Archer noticed her uncharacteristic silence and his frown deepened. "So, Sub-Commander, what do you and the doctor know about this illness of yours that you can share?"

"I experience great head discomfort when Commander Tucker is being emotional in my presence," she replied carefully. She was unwilling to acknowledge that the true reason for her discomfort was because the engineer sparked emotions as well. _That knowledge is not part of the Captain's prerogative._

"Trip? Why?"

"We are uncertain. All that is certain is that with each passing attack, part of the mid section of my brain increases in size. If I continue to be subjected to such attacks, the swelling will increase to such a size that I will die."

Her voice betrayed no emotion. _She could have just given the co-ordinates for an alien planet,_ Archer noted to himself. _Instead of pronouncing her own death sentence._

"I am uncertain how this will affect my duty, Captain. It may become necessary for me to resign. I am prepared to do so at the first sign that I will be unable to fulfill my duty as first officer," T'Pol informed him.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that, T'Pol. Besides, if Phlox is working on a cure—"

"The doctor is currently working on a diagnosis, Captain. He will need that before he can discover a cure."

"I see. If there is anything I can do, Sub-Commander..." Archer trailed off. He would never have believed it two years ago, but he had grown to respect and trust the woman sitting across the table from him. Her death would greatly affect both him and his crew.

"There is one thing, Captain," T'Pol said slowly.

That Archer had not expected. "What is it, T'Pol?"

"You could tell Commander Tucker the reason for my illness. I would do it myself, but I am relatively certain his...concern for my welfare would cause additional head discomfort."

"I will, T'Pol," Archer promised. As he excused himself from the dining area, he let out a small sigh. This conversation was not one he was looking forward to.

* * *

"Curious," remarked Ensign Thomas to Lt. Hess.

Engineering's second in command looked up from the diagnostic she was running at Thomas' remark. "What do you mean?"

"Well, first the fire breathing dragon appears, right? A completely uncharacteristic Commander Tucker from the calm, caring Commander we know. Then today the dragon magically disappears. And now," Thomas nodded in the direction of the Chief Engineer's office. "Now he's having a little heart to heart with the Captain with a closed door and they've been in there for an hour."

Hess shrugged. "Commander Tucker is third in command," she reminded the woman. "Maybe they're discussing official ship business."

"Without the Sub-Commander?" Ensign Ross questioned, joining the conversation.

Hess shrugged again. She was just as confused as her peers. Still, she had to maintain at least a veneer of professional detachment.

"All I know is that the commander's been awfully damn moody lately. Maybe we should start calling him Charlotte Tucker," Thomas remarked.

"That will be quite enough, Ensigns," Hess snapped. "Thomas, I believe the plasma conduits need a good scrub. I suggest you get to work on that immediately. And both of you should not need reminded that Commander Tucker is your superior officer. I expect you to behave accordingly."

As the Ensigns nodded meekly and walked away, Hess turned her back to hide her own smile.

Behind the closed door, neither Trip nor Captain Archer were smiling.

"It's because of me that T'Pol's been passin' out?" Trip repeated in disbelief.

Archer shifted his weight uncomfortably. "That's what she said, Trip."

Trip's mind wandered back to their conversation the previous night. __"Discuss something bland...Ah'len...Liana...insult...affectionate form of goodbye." __"But not all the time, right? Just when I'm being...emotional?" he questioned. _Explains why the alphabet didn't cause her any discomfort._

Archer nodded and rubbed the back of his neck in confusion. "I don't really know what that means...or why it bothers her. Neither does she. She says the doctor is still working on a more exact diagnosis."

After a long pause, Trip finally spoke again. "Why couldn't she tell me herself?"

"She anticipated that you'd feel concern for her condition, Trip," Archer started.

"Well of course I would!" Trip exclaimed.

"That would have caused her a further head ache," Archer said gently. _If I thought I had grown fond of the Sub-Commander, I had no idea how Trip was responding to her._ Archer realized.

"So, she's just going to avoid me til the doctor finds out what's wrong with her?" Trip asked, forcing himself to sound angry to mask the hurt threatening to show up in his voice.

"Trip, she doesn't have a choice," the Captain pointed out. "It's a matter of self preservation at this point. One happy sound from you could put T'Pol in sickbay."

The thought alone was enough to pull Trip out of his self-indulgent pity fest. "I understand, Cap'n. I won't be botherin' the Sub-Commander until the Doctor finds a cure." _He will find a cure. He has to._

Archer nodded. "Well, I'll let you get back to work. How are the engines coming, Commander?"

Trip gave a half-hearted smile at Archer's attempt to change out of the serious mode by switching to his rank. "We're way ahead of schedule, Cap'n. We'll make it to the rendezvous point in plenty of time."

There was, Archer decided, a considerable lack of energy on Trip's behalf when he spoke about the engines. Finding this most uncharacteristic and most disturbing, Archer could do nothing but give his best Captain nod. "Good work, Commander. I'll see you on the bridge."

"I-uh, don't think that's such a good idea, Cap'n...with T'Pol being sick and all," Trip remarked.

Archer frowned. "Your mere presence doesn't bother her, Commander. Further, I need my chief engineer to be able to report to the bridge at will. If T'Pol's condition worsens to the point that she can no longer tolerate your presence, then we will have to remove her from the bridge. Otherwise, I expect ship operations to not be affected by her illness."

"How can you be so cold as to worry about 'ship operations' at a time like this?" Trip demanded.

"Because," Archer replied coolly. "I'm the Captain. It falls under my job description to be primarily concerned with ship operations. The only person who should care more about the ship's operations is the chief engineer."

The unspoken message of the Captain's words were heard very clearly by Trip. Gritting his teeth, Trip replied only, "Aye, Cap'n."

"Trip," Archer sighed. "As long as you just discuss duty specifics then you should be fine. Just don't...don't be so emotional."

T'Pol's words from the night before came back to haunt him. *"You tend to become too passionate when discussing the warp core."* "Right."

"Trip? How emotional do you get about pecans, exactly?"

Trip shook his head. "I don't, Cap'n. At least, I don't think I do. But hell, the last two times I've had it, T'Pol's passed out cold." _Do I radiate that much joy when I eat the damn pie? I'd better not eat catfish in front of her anytime soon._

"You knew about her illness and didn't tell me?"

_Oops._ "I figured that was her territory."

"I see. Well, I'll let you get back to your territory now, Commander," Archer commented, his voice letting Trip know just how unpleased he was. Watching Archer go, Trip reflected that he was not particularly concerned with Archer's unhappiness.

His own took precedent, as well as his own confusion. _I shouldn't be this unhappy,_ Trip scolded himself. _T'Pol might be a friend of mine, but I wouldn't be this unhappy if Malcolm, Travis, or Hoshi had a disease that kept them away from me._ The realization was not one Trip wanted to deal with right now. He would have plenty of time to deal with those ramifications later, after T'Pol was cured of her illness.


	11. On The Way

_I've never noticed how uncomfortable these beds are,_ Trip reflected to himself in disgust as he again rolled over onto his back in his bed. Exhaustion had long since came to the engineer, but sleep refused to.

_Damn it, the engines are repaired, and the ship is on its way to meet the Vulcans and Andorians. I should be able to fall asleep easily._

Three days had passed since Archer had shared the nature of T'Pol's illness. In that time, Trip had discovered one of the constants in the universe: the more depressed he was, the more he needed and wanted his work to keep him busy. As a result, the repairs had been completed a full day ahead of schedule.

_Constants, hell. Now I'm thinking in experimental terms. Wouldn't T'Pol be proud? And she said science wasn't my area of expertise._ Trip snorted to himself as he rolled over onto his stomach. _Course, I can't actually risk seeking her out to tell her._

Gripping the edge of his pillow between his middle finger and his thumb, Trip allowed a sigh of resignation to escape his mouth. Three days. Three very long days.

Regardless of Archer's orders, Trip had spent that time in engineering. He had sent Lt. Hess up to the bridge in his absence. Trip's excuse had been that he couldn't leave his engines in a moment of crisis. Hess had given him a funny look, but said nothing more than "Aye, Sir." Archer hadn't bought it, Trip was certain, but the Captain hadn't pressed the matter. Trip wondered just how much longer he could keep up the balancing game before the Captain forced the issue.

_Well, that's not bad. My second in command thinks I've lost my mind and I have completely disobeyed my Captain's direct orders._

Yet, neither one of those concerns were what was keeping Trip awake. The cause of his insomnia was a much more indirect action of his.

The sight of T'Pol passing out replayed over and over in his mind. Without the benefit of the distraction caused by his work, he was unable to force the image out of his mind. _And it's my doing too._ The thought turned Trip's stomach. That didn't help, of course. The feeling of stomach upset only made him think of food. Which made him think of pecan pie. Which made him think of T'Pol passing out.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Trip tried desperately to forget the incident with pecan pie. Finding that squeezing his eyes shut didn't work, he tried in vain to help the process by burying his head in his pillow and shaking it furiously. _You just had to pressure her into eating the pie, didn't you?_ he questioned himself angrily. _It was completely uncalled for. If she had wanted any of it, she would have gotten some herself._

_But no, you had to badger her into tasting it, didn't you?_

*Then again, that pretty much sums up your relationship with T'Pol since she came on the ship, doesn't it? Always pushing her to be more in touch with her emotions. Always trying to push her buttons. Always trying to get a more expressive reaction. *

_Couldn't just let her be T'Pol the Vulcan could you? Nope. Never mind that she doesn't try to make you more Vulcan every day. But, oh, she has to be more human. Definitely._

*Well, Charles Tucker III, you've finally gotten a pretty emotional response. Proud of yourself, now? *

With a disgusted grunt, Trip threw his blankets off and determined that this line of reasoning was not getting him any closer to sleep. He paused only a moment before deciding to head to sickbay. _Maybe Phlox has something that can help me get some sleep. I'll just have to convince him that I'm too wound up from working nearly four days straight._

*That's not too far from the truth...* Trip rationalized as he left his quarters.

* * *

Sleep had long since came to T'Pol. To her dismay, so had her dream.

Her dream was as equally disturbing as it had been on previous evenings. The man she had not seen for three days insisted on infiltrating her thoughts while she slept. Fact and fiction intermingled freely as scenes of Trip and T'Pol interaction mixed with events that had never happened.

"Trip. My friends call me Trip." He extended his hand, and T'Pol grasped only his first two fingers in her own.

* * *

"What about your sex life?" There was no Archer at the table. Only T'Pol and Trip.

"If it concerns you so, Charles, perhaps you should attend to my needs in person."

* * *

"Just because a guy's in his underwear, you assume the worst." He remained in his underwear and T'Pol reached forward to tug at the offending article of clothing.

"What about the others, T'Pol?" teased her engineer.

"They can wait, Charles." Off came his said underwear.

* * *

The scene changed again to their first experience in the decon chamber. His hands slid gloriously over her ears eliciting sighs of desire and lust. "Please do not stop, Charles." His hands became more insistent as they fell to the floor of the chamber, differences-and their Captain- forgotten.

* * *

"Wonder what the Vulcans'll say 'bout humans and Vulcans swappin' chromosomes?" In her dream, it was Trip that murmured the words as they walked back to the quarters.

"I shall look forward to that more than I shall look forward to the ability to time travel, Charles," T'Pol responded.

* * *

"I was a perfect gentleman!" Trip informed T'Pol.

"That would depend on your definition of gentleman," T'Pol replied icily.

"Oh, shove it, T'Pol. Not all alien females are as untouchable as you are."

* * *

"Again, you could not control yourself," T'Pol scolded Trip after he returned from the planet with Kaitaama.

"Again, it's none of your business, T'Pol. I'm obviously not interested in you," Trip replied.

* * *

T'Pol watched in quiet satisfaction as Trip and Captain Archer exited the landing bay. They were fine. Trip was fine. Her eyes were locked on him, yet he refused to look at her. In desperation, she called out to him, "Beloved, I have missed your presence." But he continued to walk away.

* * *

Phlox's voice came over the intercom. "There's nothing I can do, Captain. Lt. Reed will be fine, but I'm afraid Commander Tucker will not. The cold was too much for him."

Pain seared T'Pol's chest. "What do you mean?" she demanded of the Denobulan.

"He's dead, T'Pol," the doctor replied. "I guess you really will have to return to Vulcan for your mating cycle this time."

* * *

T'Pol jerked awake, sweat drenching her night clothes. _A dream. Only a dream,_ she soothed herself. It did not help to calm the rabid heart beat. When she tried to sit up, her vision blurred and the headache increased dramatically. _It does little good to control myself during the day when not even meditation can stop these dreams,_ she remarked to herself.

At least, T'Pol remarked to herself, the last part of the dream would never come true. T'Pol was certain she would not live to see her next mating cycle. Relief flooded through her body with that thought and she fell back into sleep.

* * *

Light years away, the Vulcan ship T'Lar traveled at warp 6.5 under the command of Captain Skon. Sumarek, T'Pau, and V'Lar made up the skeleton crew of the ship as they raced to meet with Soval's ship.

Sumarek turned from his position at the helm and noted to Skon, "We will be arriving at the rendezvous point in two point three days, Captain. Exactly one point two days after Vanik and Soval arrive."

Skon only nodded. "You and Ambassador V'Lar are certain you do not wish to send word to Captain Vanik to alter speed?" he asked.

V'Lar answered. "No. If Soval is late, the Andorians will take offense. This will end peace talks and possibly alter our tenuous cease fire into a full scale war."

Skon nodded. "Logical," he remarked simply.

Sumarek suppressed the urge to lift the corners of his mouth. "I wish to thank you for volunteering for the mission, Captain Skon," he told the older Vulcan. "I know you have retired from interstellar travel."

Skon nodded. "Yes, I have. I desire to be planet side when my mate and I begin to add children to our familial unit. However, that has not yet happened. Thus, I am willing to assist you, Constable." He paused and nodded to the female Vulcans, "And you as well, Ambassador, Lady T'Pau."

Turning back towards the helm, Sumarek allowed himself to experience a small feeling of gratitude towards V'Lar's connections. When he had informed her of the situation, she immediately called upon her old friend, Skon to captain the ship. As a former Admiral in the Vulcan space fleet, Skon wielded tremendous unofficial influence in Vulcan society. Although no longer an active member of the governmental process, if Skon along with T'Pau were involved in the needed removal of Soval, it would leave no room for question once Soval was brought back to Vulcan.

As for T'Pau, she had co-incidentally been visiting with Skon and his mate when V'Lar had contacted the retired Captain. Thus, Sumarek's original mission consisting of only himself and V'Lar had grown to four.

_It shall benefit all of Vulcan if we our presence is not necessary._ Sumarek noted to himself.

"Have you given any thought to what you are going to tell the Andorians when they question the presence of two Vulcan ships?" asked Skon idly.

There was a slight pause. "We can only tell them that Vanik's ship requested medical back-up for one of their personnel and hope that is enough," replied V'Lar.

"The Andorians tend to be...distrusting and skeptical of our people," Skon acknowledged. "It is doubtful that they will believe our intentions to be as...wholesome as we will maintain."

"Regardless of the Andorians' penchant for violence, we cannot very well tell them what we suspect of Soval. We do not speak of it among outworlders," T'Pau reminded them. Although she was younger than all of the others with the exception of Sumarek, T'Pau still maintained an air of importance that came with her position.

Both T'Pau and Skon had valid points, Sumarek and V'Lar knew. And all four of them felt a decidedly un-Vulcan feeling of dread at the problem of reconciling the separate problems each Vulcan had brought to attention.


	12. Conspiracies

Being sneaky is not a treasured Vulcan quality. That truth did not deter Soval however, as he made his way down the corridor.

_Must...provide...distraction._ Soval's mind registered. _Must...not...allow a...physical...to take...place._

The doctor was waiting for him, Soval knew. Ventik had contacted him point one five minutes prior to alert him that their ship had arrived at the rendezvous point and to remind him of the necessity of a physical.

_Cannot allow it,_ Soval chanted to himself. _They will know. They MUST NOT know._ Therefore, Soval was well on his way to engineering to provide a suitable diversion. _If the ship is in peril, both Ventik and the Captain will be willing to forget the physical protocol,_ Soval reasoned.

Four point six two minutes after Soval had received Ventik's communication, the Vulcan ship began to shake. Unknowingly, the crew of the ship proved Soval's logic to be flawless as sickbay rushed to treat casualties and Soval's physical went forgotten.

* * *

On the bridge of the Enterprise, Captain Archer furrowed his brows and turned to his science officer in confusion. "What kind of engine trouble, Sub-Commander?" he inquired of T'Pol.

"Unknown, Captain," she replied.

"An alien attack?" the Captain asked.

"No," T'Pol said, not bothering to mask the confusion evident in her voice. "It appears to be an internal problem."

"Admittedly, I don't know a whole lot about Vulcan ships, Sub-Commander," commented Lt. Hess, "Am I correct in assuming, however, that they do not frequently experience 'internal problems' which cause a near warp core breach?"

T'Pol barely acknowledged the presence of the woman as she answered, "That is correct, Lieutenant."

The accentuation on the word lieutenant was so slight that it went unnoticed by nearly everyone on the bridge. Certainly Hess did not notice. The only one who did was the one person whose job description included listening for such distinctions in tone. Although the situation on the bridge appeared to be grim, Hoshi Sato could not help but allow a smile to creep across her face. _That's right, Lieutenant,_ she mentally laughed. *Now, kindly exit the bridge and allow T'Pol's COMMANDER Tucker back up here. * Unfortunately, the both the Vulcan and Andorian ships chose that moment to respond to her hails, interrupting Hoshi's enjoyment.

"The Vulcan ship is hailing us, Captain," she informed Archer.

Archer took time out to stop looking confused and nodded. "On screen, Ensign," he said. Hoshi bit down a smile. _Notice the lack of emphasis on my rank,_ she thought giddily. Out loud she replied, "Aye, Captain," Archer didn't seem to notice her emphasis, but Hoshi caught the glance from Malcolm. *Ah, you noticed did you, Lieutenant Reed? Perhaps T'Pol's romantic advice wasn't too far off after all. Now if she'd just use it herself, perhaps we'd actually see Trip on the bridge more often . *

The view screen provided a picture of a slightly middle aged Vulcan. His hair was only tinged with gray, and the wrinkles were evident only around his eyes. As with all Vulcans, however, the Captain maintained a veneer of calm and dignity although his ship had nearly self destructed. Grudgingly, Archer had to respect the Vulcan for that.

"Captain Archer, I presume?" the Vulcan on the screen asked.

"I am Captain Jonathan Archer," the captain of the Enterprise replied. "We've noticed your ship has experienced engine trouble. Do you require assistance?"

"No," the Captain replied. "Our ship is fine. Our engines are classified material as well."

Archer clenched his fist in reply. _What's new?_ he wondered angrily. "Is Ambassador Soval ready?" he replied forcefully.

"Yes," the Vulcan replied, tilting his head. _These humans, they tend to anger so easily,_ he thought in confusion. "His shuttle pod is ready to depart."

"We'll see him when he arrives. Archer out," the Captain replied.

Cutting the transmission, Hoshi informed the Captain, "The Andorians are hailing us, Captain."

"On screen."

_Aw, no rank,_ Hoshi thought wickedly. "Aye, sir."

The face of Shran appeared on the view screen. "Archer, I grow weary of waiting," the Andorian Ambassador stated. "I am ready to begin negotiations. Is the Vulcan ready?"

_Well, that's a nice attitude to begin peace talks with,_ Archer thought wearily. Suddenly he was beginning to wonder if perhaps the 'winging it' plan hadn't been so wise after all. "Yes, he's on his way," Archer informed the Andorian. "As soon as you're ready to depart—"

"I will be leaving now," Shran interrupted. "I will see you shortly, Archer." With that, the Andorian ended transmission.

With a sigh, Archer turned to face T'Pol. "Well, that went well, don't you think, T'Pol?" he asked, feigning cheer.

"The peace negotiations are unlikely to proceed smoothly," she replied.

"Gee, T'Pol, that's comforting," Archer remarked sarcastically.

_Perhaps it is the illness that allows my agitation to be so pronounced,_ T'Pol reasoned. To Archer she responded, "It was not my intention to be 'comforting,' Captain."

Giving up, Archer turned towards Hoshi. "Ensign, hail engineering. Tell Commander Tucker to meet me in the landing bay." Turning towards T'Pol he said, "Come on, Sub-Commander, we have guests to greet."

Once inside the turbolift, Archer turned towards T'Pol. "Sub-Commander, has there been any progress —"

"No."

"Oh. Are you going to be okay with this-meeting Trip in the landing bay? If you aren't—"

"As far as I am aware, Captain, my health will not be threatened by the mere presence of the Commander. If that becomes the case, I expect you to relieve me of duty as I will no longer be fit to be second in command."

Although Archer himself had pointed the very fact out to Trip, he dreaded the implementation of the act. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that, Sub-Commander."

"You have said that before, Captain. The phrase makes little sense. It is most logical to contemplate all the possible outcomes of a situation."

"I prefer to look at a situation as being half full, Sub-Commander. But I do have a question. If Trip's mere presence doesn't bother you, how about you and he start joining me for dinner again?" The Captain had been eating alone since T'Pol's attack.

"Commander Tucker has been...missing his mealtime with you?" T'Pol asked.

Archer nodded. "And you've been avoiding me as well. Now I know why," he stated. "But well, I don't like eating alone."

"Then perhaps you should take the opportunity to dine with your other senior officers," T'Pol suggested.

"I thought of that," Archer agreed. "But the last time I tried that-with Malcolm-well, it wasn't very successful," he lamented.

T'Pol nodded, having heard of the fateful breakfast escapade. "It may be prudent to invite another member of the bridge crew along with Lt. Reed. It may make him feel more at ease."

"Any suggestions?" Archer asked, thoroughly intrigued that the Vulcan who he knew to be such as stickler for protocol was providing insight on improving crew relations.

T'Pol thought only briefly before answering. "He seems the most relaxed around Ensign Sato. In addition, inviting Ensign Sato would prevent anyone from assuming your intentions to be sexist."

"Hmm...maybe. But maybe I should invite Travis too."

"If your intention is to get to know them better, that would seem a foolish plan of action. You will have assembled nearly the entire bridge crew. Such formality would seem to be a formidable barrier to the human concept of 'getting to know one better,' as I understand it," T'Pol informed the Captain. "Especially in the case of Lieutenant Reed."

"Hmmm. Well, I guess you're right. Hoshi and Malcolm it is," the Captain decided.


	13. A Meeting Of The Minds

T'Pol was careful not to allow her gaze to rest upon Commander Tucker as she entered the landing bay. Knowing him as she did, she was certain that the man would provide an emotional response to her presence, which would only prove to incite head discomfort. Still, she was unable to prevent hearing his voice when she and the Captain entered.

"Hello, Cap'n-T'POL?" Trip's exclamation was full of surprise. "Cap'n, have you lost your mind? Why did you call me down here? I shouldn't be here. What if T'Pol—"

"Commander Tucker, calm yourself," T'Pol instructed the engineer. "I would remind you that it is your being emotional that causes discomfort. If you would act rational in my presence, there would be no cause for...concern." T'Pol realized her voice sounded unquestionably harsh. However, she forced herself to disregard the obvious concern Trip was feeling for her. Now was not the place to dwell upon it.

"Which is exactly why I should go," Trip protested.

"Now, Trip," the Captain started, but T'Pol interrupted him.

"If you are incapable of performing your duty, Commander, then perhaps the Enterprise is in need of a new chief engineer. Lieutenant Hess has been covering your duties on the bridge extremely well while you have been neglecting them. Perhaps she should take your place permanently?" As T'Pol finished her statement, she was grateful that neither remorse nor sorrow could incite pain. She certainly felt both emotions quite clearly as she saw the expression of hurt cross Trip's face. __I lament causing you pain. __she thought inwardly. **Still, such harsh words were necessary. If you are angry, you cannot simultaneously feel concern for my welfare. __If Trip did not openly express his concern, T'Pol was certain she could suppress any sexual or possessive feelings. **But Commander Tucker is not a Vulcan. Therefore, he requires additional stimulus to refrain from being emotional. __Or at least, refrain from expressing the wrong emotions.

She knew Commander Tucker well. Perhaps too well. His momentary expression of hurt was replaced by one of anger as he replied, "No, Sub-Commander, that won't be necessary. I am perfectly capable of doing my job, thank you."

"Then perhaps you should demonstrate that ability more often," T'Pol replied.

"That's enough," Captain Archer interrupted. From the tone of his voice, T"Pol could tell she had succeeded in making him angry as well. **An unfortunate side effect of my intentions, __she noted. "T'Pol, I know you're sick, but that was inexcusable. If these negotiations weren't about to start, I'd be tempted to confine you to quarters. We'll have a nice little chat about this when our guests leave."

_If the negotiations were not about to start, I would not have been so harsh to Commander Tucker,_ To the Captain, T'Pol replied, "As you wish."

Trip took his place beside the Captain as they waited on their guests to arrive.

Their wait was not a long one. Soval's shuttle craft landed quickly and was followed soon by Shran's craft. Although he landed second, the Andorian descended first. Coming to stand in front of Archer, Shran grasped the man's hand readily. "Ah, pinkskin, again we meet!" the Ambassador stated cheerfully.

"Ambassador Shran," greeted Captain Archer. "I trust you remember my first officer, Sub-Commander T'Pol?" At Shran's nod, the Captain continued, "And I'm certain you remember my chief engineer, Commander Charles Tucker III?"

Shran could not help but notice the strange emphasis the human insisted on placing on the words "chief engineer", but nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I remember Commander Tucker quite well. He's one of the pinkest pink skins among you." Before either Archer or Tucker could determine whether that was a compliment, Shran turned towards T'Pol. "And the Vulcan first officer. Of course. I suppose we should all be grateful for your existence, Sub-Commander."

"Indeed? And why is that?" T'Pol inquired.

"I assume your presence on the ship has increased Captain Archer's knowledge of the Vulcans and their ways. That will be an invaluable asset to our discussion, do you not agree?" Shran asked.

_It shall be if he applies his knowledge._ To Shran, she simply nodded.

Inside his shuttle pod, Soval was composing himself. He knew that he must emerge quickly, lest the meddlesome humans invade his private space. His condition had grown more and more difficult to control in the short amount of time it had taken to reach Enterprise. _Soon I shall have no control over the disease. At this rate, I shall not make it through the conference._

A life time worth of achievement to be taken from him due to an inconvenience, Soval growled in disgust. Grinding his fists together, the Vulcan lamented the unfairness of his situation. There was of course, an easy solution to his illness, but Soval could not-would not-consider that option here. Besides, at best estimates, that would take at least a week as well. _No, I require an alternative._

As he exited the shuttle pod, Soval's gaze fell upon Sub-Commander T'Pol. Remembering the conversation with Sumarek and the Vulcan doctors over the Sub-Commander's illness, Soval suddenly realized his solution. He would simply be more discreet in his actions than Sorik had been. He required only a host for his plan to be effective.

"Why, Soval, if I didn't know better, I'd swear I just saw you smile!" Shran greeted the Vulcan.

_Annoying cretin,_ Soval thought irritably. Turning to face the Andorian, Soval replied, "Is it not appropriate, Ambassador? A new expression for a new beginning?"

Soval's statement received three looks of surprise and one raised eyebrow. Turning towards T'Pol, Soval raised his hand in the standard Vulcan salute. T'Pol raised hers in the same greeting, and Soval leaned forward to touch his hand to hers. He saw the surprised look that momentarily flashed across her face.

_It has been a long time since Soval has greeted me with such an affectionate gesture._ T'Pol realized. As her own thought registered, she remembered her own lie to Commander Tucker with accordance to the "affectionate" gesture. The thought, and it's accompanying desire, brought T'Pol to her knees in agony. Archer was at her side immediately. Seeing Trip rush to help as well, Archer shook his head. "No, Trip," he said softly. "Don't."

Trip nodded and took a step back. _Damnit, I thought I was the only one that caused her to be uncomfortable. Now it's Soval too?_ Trip felt a simultaneous feeling of both relief and jealousy. Relief that he wasn't the only one hurting T'Pol...and jealousy because he wanting to be the only one capable of making her feel so emotional. _That's awful. Absolutely awful. She's sick and all you can worry about is yourself._ "Ya should get Sub-Commander T'Pol to sickbay, Cap'n," he said, using his best Commander Tucker voice. "I'll show the Ambassadors to their guest quarters."

Archer nodded. "Thanks, Trip." Gingerly picking T'Pol up, he exited with only a brief "Sorry, gentlemen," tossed over his shoulder.

"Well, that's not something you see every day," Shran remarked. "Normally Vulcan's are much more composed than that. Is she going to be well?"

"I don't know," Trip snapped. "Come on, let's get you to your quarters."

Neither Shran nor Trip saw the second smile cross Soval's face as he realized that he had just found the remaining ingredient to his solution.

* * *

"What has Commander Tucker done this time?" Phox inquired as Archer laid T'Pol down on the biobed.

"Trip didn't do anything, Doctor. It was something Ambassador Soval did," Archer replied.

"Oh? Ambassador Soval?" _I was unaware T'Pol had sexual feelings for Ambassador Soval,_

As the hypospray was pressed into T'Pol's neck, she murmured softly, "No. Not Soval...Commander Tucker..."

Archer looked surprised. "But Trip wasn't anywhere near her when it happened. He wasn't speaking to her, either."

_Perhaps not. But he may have very well been in her head, Captain._ "And Soval was?" Phlox asked.

"Yes. He had just done the Vulcan hand salute," Archer responded.

Phlox looked thoughtful. "Did they touch hands?"

"Yes. I've not seen it before. What does it mean?" Archer inquired.

"Ah..." Phlox mused outloud. "It is well, an affectionate form of greeting, Captain."

Unfortunately, those were wrong words to use in T'Pol's presence. Her spasms, which had calmed a moment ago, began with renewed passion. Quickly, Phlox increased her injection and added a sedative to help the Sub-Commander sleep. Before drifting off, however, she murmured softly, "Affectionate...Commander Tucker...desire...want...Charles...Trip."

"What the hell?" exclaimed Archer. "Doctor, I want to know what's going on with my science officer. She told me she was sick, but—"

"I suggest you wait until she wakes up, Captain. Then you can ask her. But I will offer this advice. Do you remember several months ago, when I proposed there to be some sexual tension between you and the Sub-Commander?"

Archer flushed, remembering the incident well. "Yes, Doctor, I remember."

"Then you must also remember that I cautioned you not to talk to the Sub-Commander about it?" **Advice you foolishly did not heed, I might add. __

"Yes, but what does this have to do—"

"I had a good reason to give that warning, Captain. And I certainly was not referring to the command structure."

Archer scratched his head, wondering what this conversation had to do with anything. But his gut instinct was telling him he didn't like where it was headed. "And what was your reason, doctor?"

"Unlike my people, humans tend to value monogamy in a mate. As do Vulcans. It was fairly obvious even at the time that Sub-Commander T'Pol and yourself could not have such a relationship."

"And why not?" Archer demanded.

Phlox smiled kindly at the Captain, with much of the same patience that parent has for a non-comprehending child. "I believe, Captain, the Sub-Commander told us the answer to that just before she drifted off into sleep."

* * *

After dropping off Shran in his quarters, Soval and Commander Tucker made the small trek to the Vulcan's quarters.

"Say, Soval, that gesture you did with T'Pol, I've never seen it before," Trip stated to the Ambassador, trying to remain polite.

"Indeed?" Soval inquired.

"No. So, what's it mean? It's not a regular Vulcan greeting, is it?"

"Why are you concerned, Commander Tucker?"

Trip lost his patience. Stopping in the midst of the corridor, he placed his hand upon Soval's shoulder and looked the Vulcan evenly in the eye. "I am concerned, Ambassador, because whatever the hell you just did put T'Pol in sickbay. I'm tryin' to be polite here, Ambassador, but —"

"You are concerned for T'Pol's welfare...that is admirable," Soval agreed. "And I do believe I can help you, Commander."

Trip was immensely relieved. "Really?" **T'Pol's gonna be okay. __

"Indeed. But it is a private matter and not one I wish to discuss in the corridor. Perhaps if you would like to come in, we can discuss it further?" Soval suggested.

Trip nodded and followed Soval into his quarters. "It is not something I can speak of, out loud. However, I can and will show you another way, if you agree."

"If it'll help T'Pol, yes," Trip replied. "What's it involve?"

"It is a procedure called a mind meld," Soval answered.

"A mind meld?"

"Yes. We will be briefly telepathically linked."

The thought made Trip uneasy. The last time he had been 'telepathically linked' he had ended up pregnant. "You're sure this is the only way?" he inquired of Soval.

"Yes."

Trip sighed. "Alright then. Let's do it."

Soval nodded. _Excellent. I will soon be rid of this illness. It shall be Commander Tucker's problem and mine no longer._ With that thought, he pressed his hand to Commander Tucker's face. "My mind to your mind; My thoughts to your thoughts," Soval whispered intensely.

Trip involuntarily closed his eyes, as the intense emotions nearly overwhelmed him. _I thought Vulcans suppressed their emotions._ Trip thought. As he did so, he heard the mental reply from Soval, _Yes, that we do, Commander, that we do. But our logic does not come free. We must occasionally pay the price for our logic._

_What do you mean?_ Trip wondered. But he did not receive a reply. Instead, he felt another intense rush of emotions flood him. _Too much,_ his brain registered. _Have to stop._ He tried to pull away, but Soval placed a restraining hand on the back of his head. The superior Vulcan strength, along with the effects of the mind meld, prevented Trip from breaking loose.

Moments later, Trip slumped to the floor and Soval walked to the Comm Unit. "Soval to Sickbay. Please come to my quarters at once. Commander Tucker has collapsed."


	14. Misunderstandings And Lies

_First T'Pol, now Trip,_ Archer's mind registered numbly as he and Dr. Phlox raced to Commander Tucker's quarters. _All this on top of the peace conference. Why must something always happen? Why can't things go smoothly just for once?_ In the back of his mind, T'Pol's words registered dimly. "The peace negotiations are unlikely to proceed smoothly, Captain."

_Well, that was an understatement._ Although he didn't know why, Archer couldn't prevent a small laugh from escaping his mouth. The situation, while far from humorous, had certainly proven T'Pol to be right. Things weren't proceeding "smoothly" by any means.

Dr. Phlox gave a curious glance towards the Captain. _Both Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol are unconscious, yet the Captain laughs. Intriguing._ The psychologist in Phlox knew that each person dealt with their grief in their own way. _Nonetheless, these humans are most unique in their responses._ he noted.

Archer and Phlox soon reached Ensign Sato's quarters, which she had reluctantly relinquished to serve as guest quarters. Ensign Mayweather had suffered the same fate and the two lowest ranking bridge officers would begin sharing their space with Sub-Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Reed, respectively. For some reason, no one had taken into account the idea that the Enterprise might serve as a vehicle of diplomacy. Thus, no one had designed guest quarters.

Walking into Ambassador Soval's temporary quarters, Archer was dismayed to find Trip lying on the floor, quite unconscious while Ambassador Soval stood by, watching passively.

"What happened?" Archer demanded as Phlox attended Trip.

"After you left the landing bay, Commander Tucker became increasingly irrational. Upon arriving to my quarters, he became convinced I had inflicted pain upon the Sub-Commander and demanded I tell him what I had done. I tried to assure him I had not injured the Sub-Commander in any way, but he did not believe me. Instead, he forced his way into my quarters. He became increasingly irrational and hostile until I was not certain of my safety. Eventually, I had to do the Vulcan nerve pinch—"

Archer turned on Soval in an instant. "Then he didn't just collapse of his own free will? You did this to him?" he demanded of the Vulcan Ambassador.

Soval looked at Archer steadily. "Yes, Captain Archer, I did. I saw it to be the only way to defend myself."

"Why didn't you call security?" the Captain demanded.

"Commander Tucker had not shared the procedure for doing so. This is a foreign ship, Captain," Soval reminded the human.

_I don't believe it,_ Archer thought inwardly. Turning towards Phlox, he inquired, "Is he going to be okay, Doctor?"

_His adrenaline levels are elevated,_ Phlox noted. _The opposite should be true, if in fact he sustained a Vulcan nerve pinch. The nerve pinch is a relaxant._ "I am uncertain, Captain. I do need to get him to sickbay."

"I will assist you, Doctor," Soval offered. Both Archer and Phlox looked at him in surprise. In reply to their own unanswered questions, Soval remarked, "Although I was acting in self defense, it was my actions that rendered the Commander unconscious. In addition, my Vulcan strength is superior to your own."

"Of course," Archer replied irritably.

With Soval's help, they reached sickbay rather quickly. T'Pol, who had been sleeping when they left, still was. More to the point, it appeared she was dreaming. As Soval laid Trip down, not so gingerly, all three conscious guests were privy to T'Pol's murmurings. "Read to you, my Trip. Bride of Frankenstein."

Soval turned to Archer in surprise. "Why would she be reading to Commander Tucker? Can your engineer not read himself?" the Ambassador inquired.

Archer glared at Soval. "Of course Trip can read. I think we should both leave and allow Dr. Phlox room to do his work."

Before they could turn to leave, however, T'Pol murmured softly, "I...Frankenstein...the monster. You...my bride." Soval's eyebrow arched high in surprise and before Archer could think of an appropriate way to force the man to leave sickbay, both he and Soval were shocked to hear T'Pol _giggle._

_Dear God,_ Archer thought. _She just giggled. A Vulcan. Giggled._

"No...you will not be...pregnant...I shall...offspring...no pebbles," T'Pol rambled giddily in her sleep. This rather odd train of thought was followed by yet another giggle.

"OFFSPRING?" Soval demanded. "Why is Sub-Commander T'Pol discussing offspring and your engineer?"

"She's dreaming, Ambassador," Archer started, but was quickly cut off by the Ambassador.

"Vulcans do not dream, Captain. Although from what I am seeing of T'Pol's state, she is obviously engaged in a highly inappropriate relationship with your engineer. This must be brought to the attention of the high command at once."

"Trip and T'Pol are not involved," Archer snapped.

"Indeed, are they not?" Soval mocked. "Why then, did your engineer attempt to assault me when he believed I had caused her harm?"

Alarm bells were ringing loudly in Archer's head. Could Soval be right? Was what he was insinuating correct? No. Trip was T'Pol's friend. And even that wasn't an every day assurance. "It's a human concept called friendship, Ambassador. I'm certain Vulcans don't understand it. But we want to protect people we care about."

"No, proper Vulcans do not have friendships, Captain. But we do engage in sexual relations. We can also tell the difference between sexual relations and acquaintances. Are you capable of that as well?" Soval demanded.

Archer glared at the Ambassador. He wanted badly to tell this arrogant, condescending bastard to get the hell off his ship. But he couldn't for two reasons. Firstly, the peace treaty conference. As much as Archer despised the man standing in front of him, he recognized that as Captain, some things took precedent over his ego.

_But more disturbingly,_ thought Archer, _I'm not one hundred percent certain that what Soval was saying wasn't true_ * Archer sighed, feeling again the burden of being the Captain. "Soval, I'll escort you back to your quarters. I'm sure you'll want time to meditate before dinner tonight, given the events." At Soval's nod, Archer continued, "And I'll pay a visit to Shran."

The Vulcan looked at him with a distinct air of non-trust. "Shran?" he inquired.

Archer nodded. "You implied that Trip was irrational during your entire journey to your quarters. If Shran can substantiate this claim..."

"He shall be able to, Captain," replied Soval confidently, knowing the Andorian penchant to over-react.

"If so, then I assure you, Ambassador, Commander Tucker will be escorted back to Earth in the brig," Archer said quietly. _Oh, Trip, please don't be so stupid,_ he prayed silently as he and Soval made the journey to his quarters.

* * *

Like T'Pol, Trip too was dreaming. Unlike T'Pol's dreams, however, there was very little conversation in Trip's dreams. Pure, unadulterated physical touch after physical touch.

The scenes were scattered. No coherent plot or story to Trip's dreams. But he was loving someone, although her face was somewhat bleary and Trip couldn't tell exactly who she was. But she was covered in...Triaxian silk.

_Of all the silks in the galaxy, this must be the softest,_ Trip mused in his dream state. The silk was red, he noted and it accented the complexion of his companion nicely. The Triaxian pajamas covered her, from neck to foot, overlapping across her ample bosom. "Beautiful," Trip murmured as he began to remove the silk.

Still, he could not see her face. Not clearly. Yet he could and did taste her lips. They tasted sweet-the taste of pecan pie lingering on them mixed with the slightest hint of tea.

Hungrily, Trip devoured his companions lips, aching to taste more. In reply, she returned the gesture and began to remove his clothing as well.

The silk was still in his way. Try as he might, Trip could not remove all the silk. It stood as a barrier between his companion and himself.

The dream took on a more coherent quality as his companions face became a bit more clear. While Trip still couldn't determine who it was, he could tell she was a brunette. * _Not Natalie, not Lisa, not Liana, not Ah'len,_ *Trip noted. As his hands ran through her locks, he noticed the shortness of her cut and determined it not to be Ruby or Kaitamma, either.

"Who are you?" he murmured.

He received no reply to his query. Instead, his companion's voice urged him to "hurry." A voice he had heard before...but where?

Trip didn't know. Couldn't know. Frustration and anger combined with his lust as he pulled furiously at the silk. "Damn silk!" he exclaimed. "Come off...Now!"

But it wouldn't. He removed layer after layer.

Only to find more silk.

"Hurry, Trip," his companion voiced again.

Her urging seemed to help him, as he was finally able to remove the last shred of silk standing as a barrier between the two of them. Relieved, Trip leaned down...

And the scene changed again.

Trip was on his back, his hands gently tied above his head. Gently enough not to hurt him, tight enough to keep him from touching...

His companion. She was back. And fully nude.

And straddling him.

The substance binding his hands? "Damn Triaxian silk," Trip murmured.

Her hands delighted him. Her kisses reached every portion of his body. Her tongue reached every orifice...

But he couldn't touch her. His hands were bound by that damn Triaxian silk.

"Do you want me to stop?" his companion inquired.

"No! Please don't stop," Trip urged her.

"Do you like me being...affectionate?" she asked.

It clicked in Trip's subconscious at that instant who his companion was. "Oh, T'Pol," he breathed quietly. "I love it, darlin'."

* * *

From his watchful post in sickbay, Phlox noted with some concern the ever growing redness of Commander Tucker's skin tone. _His adrenaline levels continue to rise,_ the doctor noticed.

As he did so, the biobed began to beep loudly and obtrusively. Checking the machine, Phlox was alarmed to see indications of an irregular heart beat. Further, the engineer's entire autonomic nervous system seemed to be experiencing some type of distress.

_But what is causing it?_ the physician wondered. He had been reviewing Commander Tucker's medical history and the man had been healthy and fit at his last physical, only two months previous.

_Yet the type of cardiovascular difficulty being faced by Commander Tucker is one that would have been caught easily in a physical,_ Phlox mused.

The Denobulan didn't like it, that was for certain. Glancing over at Sub-Commander T'Pol, he could see that the sedative was beginning to weaken. _Seeing the Commander in such a state will not help her condition at all,_ the Doctor lamented. It did not require much thought on the Doctor's behalf before he crossed sickbay and gave T'Pol a secondary dose of sedative. "Sleep, Sub-Commander," he encouraged her form. "Your dreams seem to be pleasant ones, whereas awakening shall only bring you pain, in one form or the other." If seeing Commander Tucker in pain didn't upset the Vulcan, certainly her inevitable confrontation with Soval would.

* _No one is going to upset my patient that way,_ *Phlox vowed. **Or my friend. __

A groan from Commander Tucker caused the physician to wonder back to the engineer's side of sickbay. "Are you going to join the land of the conscious, Commander?" he asked the sleeping form.

In response, the man groaned again, a much more guttural sound. _Definitely sexual in nature,_ Phlox noted. A survey of Trip's anatomy provided proof of the sexual nature of his groans in the genital area. To his utter surprise, he heard the engineer murmur softly, "T'Pol, I'd love it, darlin'."

Surprise colored Phlox's features. _Intriguing. Commander Tucker is experiencing dreams of a sexual nature, while Sub-Commander T'Pol's illness is related to feelings of sexual attraction while undoubtedly having dreams which are of the romantic nature, at the very least._

Perhaps, just perhaps, the two events were somehow related. The thought gave Phlox hope. **If they are related maladies, they may be able to help each other, __he thought optimistically.

* * *

Captain Archer gripped his fists together angrily after leaving Shran's quarters. The Andorian's words reverberated in his head. "Yes, the pink skin was a decided shade of red. Even more so than usual for him. And he was quite agitated. From the moment you left. He was rather rude and angry towards us the moment you left the landing bay, Captain." Shran had clicked his tongue. "I had assumed his thoughts to be with the Vulcan female-he was rather irritated when I inquired of her health."

It was true then. All evidence pointed in the direction he didn't want to go. Trip and T'Pol were obviously involved.

_How long has it been going on?_ Archer wondered. T'Pol's words in sickbay came back to him. The Bride of Frankenstein.

_Ouch. And I asked her to a date to Frankenstein. I bet they both had a good laugh at that,_ Archer lamented as he made his way to Lt. Reed's quarters.

Personally, Archer was willing to overlook the rules of fraternization. He believed them to outdated, and it was widely known in Starfleet that the application of the rules was left up to each individual Captain.

Archer had no intention of enforcing them. Especially as far as they were from Earth...He had been certain that T'Pol would disagree with him, as she had given the indication that she firmly believed in them. Several times. _Ah, but each time was a time you were flirting with her, wasn't it, Jon?_ he interrogated himself. _Trip on the other hand, why the hell not? Why not toss the Vulcan ideology of sticking to the rules out an airlock and torpedo it all to hell?_

_Stop it,_ he instructed himself. _This isn't about you or your jealousy._

Had T'Pol and Trip simply decided to be together, Archer could have lived with that. It would have taken some adjustment. _And I'd be jealous as hell,_ he admitted.

But Archer was a grown man, not a three year old boy whose toy had been taken away.

The issue then, was not their deciding to be together. T'Pol wasn't even a Starfleet officer. The rules, had Archer decided to stick to them, wouldn't have even applied to her.

No, the issue was that Trip had allowed their relationship to jeopardize the peace conference. If what Soval said was true, well, then Archer didn't know how, but he would have to find the resolve to initiate a court martial. Or at the very least, report the incident to Starfleet Command.

Trip would need to wake up first, and be questioned, of course. Archer hoped against all hope that his friend was innocent. But he had to admit, the evidence piling against him was pretty damning.

Arriving at Reed's quarters, Archer buzzed the door, announcing his presence. Travis Mayweather's voice floated out, "Just a moment."

There was a pause, two pronounced thuds, a "bloody hell, Travis," and a "Sorry, Sir," before a very sheepish looking Travis Mayweather answered the door. Seeing the Captain, the helmsman only looked more embarrassed. "Captain, sir, come in, sir."

"At ease, Travis," The Captain said with a forced smile. "Is Lieutenant Reed available?" he inquired as he stepped into the quarters. He found the answer to his question to be rising from the floor, rubbing his posterior region with a grimace of agitation. Seeing the Captain, the man managed to look even more flustered than normal. "Captain, sir! I apologize, sir, but—"

Archer waved him off. "At ease, Lieutenant. Have the two of you done something to the environmental controls in this room? It feels funny," Archer mused.

Reed grimaced. "We have not, sir, but Ensign Mayweather insisted on trying out the zero g in my quarters," he replied.

Archer almost smiled. Almost. "I see. Did you not find that agreeable, Lieutenant?"

Reed sighed. "It is rather difficult to review armory reports in a zero g atmosphere, Captain," he admitted.

At this the Captain did smile. Which only incited Reed to sigh again. Travis and the Captain were both against him. There would be no wining of the battle this time.

"Well, gentlemen, I've come to invite you to our diplomatic function tonight. Lieutenant Reed, you have no choice, as you'll be sitting in for Sub-Commander T'Pol, but Travis, you can skip out if you want."

"Is the Sub-Commander still sick?" Travis inquired.

_Does everyone know about what's going on this ship before I do?_ Archer wondered angrily. To Travis, he replied, "Yes."

"Well, uh, I think I'll pass sir, if it is okay with you," Travis replied, hearing the angry tone in Archer's voice and believing it to be directed at him.

"That's fine. I just didn't want you to feel unwelcome, as Hoshi will be joining us as well," Archer remarked.

"She will, sir?" asked Malcolm in surprise.

"Yes," the Captain responded. "She will be taking Commander Tucker's place."

"What's wrong with Commander Tucker?" demanded Malcolm. "Is he injured?"

"He is in sickbay. Ensign, can you excuse us, please?" Archer said to Mayweather.

"Sure, Captain. Um, have a nice night," the helmsman replied.

"Travis- I'd better not come home to a zero g environment," the armory officer warned the man as he sauntered out of room. There was no reply, and Malcolm had a sneaky suspicion he had been ignored.

Once alone, Archer sighed and motioned for Malcolm to have a seat. As he sat, Malcolm regarded the Captain curiously. "Sir? What's this all about? What's wrong with Commander Tucker? Is he going to be alright?"

"To answer your questions, lieutenant, he's in sickbay, the doctor doesn't know, and I'm about to tell you 'what it's all about.' But first, I need a guarantee from you, lieutenant," Archer said soberly.

"A guarantee, sir?" Malcolm asked in confusion. He couldn't help but notice the Captain was behaving strangely. _He's behaving so proper. Almost the way a proper Captain should,_ he noted. It frankly frightened the armory officer, as it was immensely out of character. _And why isn't he as concerned for Trip as I am? I thought the Captain and Commander Tucker were friends?_

"Yes, Malcolm, a guarantee. I know you and Trip have grown very...close lately. The two of you are good friends, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Malcolm replied honestly, wondering exactly what this had to do with anything. Inwardly, he braced himself for the impact he was certain was coming.

"How good of a friend would you say you are, Malcolm?" the Captain asked.

_It's some type of trick question,_ Malcolm decided. _It just isn't...natural of the Captain to be inquiring exactly how close someone's friendship is on the ship._ "Sir, I'm afraid I don't follow?"

Archer lost his temper. "It's easy enough of a question, Lieutenant, if you answer honestly. How good of a friend are you with Commander Tucker?"

_I don't know what you are insinuating, but I don't like it,_ Malcolm thought angrily. "Good enough to have breakfast, occasionally, sir," Malcolm replied. He paused a moment before adding, "And I rather enjoy it, sir." The last sir was said with a slight emphasis, the kind that let Archer know that Malcolm wasn't entirely certain he deserved to be addressed in that fashion.

Archer turned to look at his armory officer in amazement. He had angered the lieutenant. "Malcolm, I'm glad to hear that," he murmured softly.

_Then why in the bloody hell are we having this conversation?_ wondered Malcolm. "You are, sir?"

"Yes. I want my crew to be close-there's only 83 of us and we're all we got," Archer commented. "I just need to know that friendships won't come in the way of duty."

"Respectfully, sir, I've never—"

"No, you haven't, lieutenant. Not yet," Archer agreed. "But when Commander Tucker awakes from sickbay, he will need to be interrogated. There is a very real chance he will have to be confined to the brig."

"The brig, sir?" Asked Malcolm in surprise. "What for, sir?"

"Ambassador Soval claims he was assaulted by Trip," the Captain replied.

"Trip wouldn't do that," replied Malcolm instantly.

Archer gave a grim smile. "I don't like to think so, either, Lieutenant. But the evidence is piling against him."

Malcolm listened in growing horror as the Captain related the events of the past twenty-four hours to him.

"I just need to know, Lieutenant Reed, that if Trip is guilty, I can depend on you to do your duty," Archer stated. "Even if it means locking up your best friend."

"You can always count on me to do my duty, sir," Malcolm replied. "I won't like it, one bit, but if Commander Tucker is guilty of what you say, sir, then I shall escort him to the brig personally."

Archer nodded. "Of course. You can always count on a Reed to do his duty, can't you?"

"Aye, sir," Malcolm replied.

"I'll see you at 1900 hours, lieutenant," Archer told his armory officer as he turned to leave.

After he was gone, Malcolm sat down on the edge of his bed and lamented being a Reed.

* * *

In sickbay, Trip continued to dream...

T'Pol was loving him.

He was loving T'Pol.

Or as much as he could, with his hands tied together. She refused to heed his requests to untie him and he grew increasingly frustrated with each passing moment.

"T'Pol, untie me," he begged.

"Do you truly wish it, beloved?" she teased gently. "I do enjoy hearing you beg." "Yes," he moaned. "Want-need-to touch you. Please."

"As you wish, th'yla," T'Pol replied. Her hands reached for the silk bonds that held his hands together...

But someone was pulling her away. "No!" Trip exclaimed. But the stranger, a male was all Trip could determine, continued to pull T'Pol away.

In his dream state, Trip's emotions rapidly turned from happiness and desire to anger and frustration as the entity pulled T'Pol further and further away from him. As T'Pol was dragged further away, Trip became aware of an intense pain deep within him.

He would seek revenge against someone for taking T'Pol. And for making him suffer. Someone would pay, Trip vowed.


	15. Awakenings

Ensign Sato, Lieutenant Reed, and Captain Archer sat with Ambassador Soval at the Captain's table, waiting patiently for Ambassador Shran to arrive. At least, Soval and Hoshi were waiting patiently. Both Malcolm and Archer's thoughts were occupied elsewhere.

_Trip is innocent, I'd bet my life on it,_ Malcolm thought. _But are Vulcans capable of lying?_

Archer's thoughts, however, were not as optimistic. _I can't believe he did something so stupid. Jeopardized the entire peace conference. And for what? Because he mistakenly believed Soval hurt T'Pol? That's ridiculous. He knew better. He was standing right next to me when the incident happened._

Fighting down a sigh, Archer mentally hoped there was more to the Trip and T'Pol relationship than just a comfortable role in the hay. **Because if what Soval says is true, then Trip's sacrificed his entire career for T'Pol.

Whatever happened to Vulcans only having sex once every seven years, anyway? __

Irrationally, Archer determined that he had never hated Vulcans more than he did at this moment.

The door opened to revel a very animated Ambassador Shran. "Archer, why didn't you tell me all humans weren't pink skins?" he demanded.

Jerked from his reverie, Archer was a bit confused. "Well...what brought you to that revelation?" he asked the Andorian, hoping he didn't sound too condescending.

"I just ran into a most interesting member of your crew on the way here-and he's a decided shade of brown. I immediately noticed that instead of being a 'pink skin', he in fact was a 'brown skin.'"

"You said that to him?" Archer asked in astonishment.

"Well, yes. And he acted precisely as you are now, a bit outraged. I don't understand why. I stated no more than the truth. Logical, isn't it, Soval?" the Andorian asked of the Vulcan Ambassador.

Soval, who was feeling much better since he had purged his illness simply nodded. "It may be indeed logical to you, Shran. However, humans are highly emotional creatures who place value on strange people..."

_Like Vulcans_ Archer thought irritably.

"...and words. While I am uncertain as to what prompted the crewman's outrage, no doubt it was driven by the human tendency to over-react and take offense," Soval finished.

"And that is a trait you believe Andorians share, isn't it, Ambassador?" Shran mocked.

"Indeed," replied Soval.

"Ambassador Shran," interrupted Archer. "Allow me to introduce you to Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, my armory officer, and Ensign Hoshi Sato, the ship's linguist."

The Andorian turned to look at the two thoughtfully, allowing his gaze to rest on Hoshi a minute. "You aren't really pink, either," he noted. "You're much paler than the rest of the pink humans," he decided.

Hoshi smiled at the Andorian. "That's true, Ambassador. Humans have varying shades of skin tone. Some Vulcans do as well. Do Andorians?"

Shran looked a bit surprised. "All the Vulcans I've seen look the same to me," he replied.

"Perhaps it would benefit you to look a bit closer," Soval replied dryly.

Shran rolled his eyes at the Vulcan. "To answer your question, Sato, most Andorians are blue. Although occasionally there are other skin pigments as well. Green is the most common."

"I have not seen a green Andorian before," Soval noted.

"Have you seen every Andorian on the planet?" Shran demanded.

"Ambassadors, perhaps we should move on to the subject of the peace treaty," Archer interrupted, not liking the direction this was heading.

"That would be a most logical action, Captain," Soval replied. Turning towards Shran he asked, "What does the Andorian government seek to gain from the peace treaty?"

"As you know, Soval, the Vulcans and Andorians have a long history of war. While our previous treaties sought only to end hostilities, with this peace treaty, the Andorian government seeks an alliance between the Andorians and the Vulcans," replied Shran.

"What type of alliance?" asked Archer.

"A mutually benefiting one," replied Shran.

Archer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. * _What other type of alliance is there?_ *he wondered inwardly.

"What would be the details of this alliance?" asked Soval.

Shran sat back in his chair. "The climate of my home planet, Soval, is not hospitable to plant life, as you may know."

Soval nodded. "Yes, I am aware of that."

"It has been partially for that reason that the Andorian government has sought out new planets to colonize," Shran continued.

"Such as Weytahn," Archer supplied, giving the name of the planet that had seen the birth of the original peace treaty.

"Paan Mokar," Soval corrected, giving the Vulcan name for the planet .

"Yes, such as Weytahn," Shran agreed.

_If I had not purged my illness, I would be tempted to strike both the human and the Andorian. It is fortunate Commander Tucker is serving as a host._ Soval noted. "I assume you anticipate the Vulcan government's help in some way?"

"Yes. Our terra-forming abilities are quite advanced. Yet they are not stable. Vulcans on the other hand, have the technology to—"

"Vulcans do not share technology with inferior species," Soval replied.

Thankfully their food arrived at that moment.

It was, Archer reflected, going to be a long dinner.

* * *

In sickbay, Trip was awakening.

_Son of a bitch,_ Trip thought to himself. _I have one hell of a headache._ It irritated him. In fact, Trip noticed, he was pretty irritated to start with. The headache only added to his irritation.

"Ah, Commander Tucker, you are awake," came the cheerful voice of Doctor Phlox.

"Yes, I'm awake. What happened? Why the hell am I in sickbay?" he demanded.

Phlox paused a moment to take in the Commander's reactions. His tone was angry, defiant. While most patients did not like to be in sickbay, Commander Tucker was usually quite jovial. Or at least amicable. The tone he spoke in was much too angry to be defined as either.

"You have been the victim of a Vulcan nerve pinch, Commander," Phlox replied.

"Damn Vulcans. Who was it, T'Pol? Was she gettin' even with me for givin' her the headaches? Isn't like it's my fault she can't handle emotions. Damn emotionally uptight species," Trip rambled angrily.

_This is most peculiar. Only five days ago, Commander Tucker was in this sickbay full of concern for T'Pol._ Phlox noted. _Now he is not only uncaring, but he is seemingly angry with her whole species._

"I assure you, Commander Tucker, I have not made any attempt to 'get even' with you," came T'Pol's voice from behind them.

_I had hoped she would not awake until after I could discern what was wrong with the Commander,_ Phlox lamented inwardly.

"Ya alright?" Trip demanded. Although he had been full of wrath only a moment before, at the sound of T'Pol's voice, his anger involuntarily dissipated. _She's so beautiful. If only I could touch her. Just once._

_Most interesting. While the Commander was highly irritated only moments ago, now he speaks to T'Pol as gently as though she were a child,_ Phlox noted.

_I shall never understand humans,_ T'Pol realized. *Only a moment ago, the Commander was ranting and expressing emotions of anger. Now when he speaks, such anger has vanished. * "I am fine, Commander Tucker. I am curious as to why you were the victim of a Vulcan nerve pinch. The only other Vulcan on board is Ambassador Soval."

"I know," Trip replied, feeling his irritation rise again. **Can't yell at T'Pol. She's hurt. Sick. Can't yell...at her. Not...her...fault. __Turning towards the Denobulan, he demanded, "It was Soval, wasn't it? That arrogant bastard did this, didn't he?"

Phlox regarded Trip for a moment. "Yes, Ambassador Soval provided the nerve pinch."

Trip could feel his irritation increasing. To his great frustration, however, he noted that he was having great difficulty concentrating. "Is he in the brig?" he demanded.

"No," Phlox stated quietly.

"Well, why the hell not?" Trip snapped. "He's assaulted two members of this crew so far—"

"Two?" interrupted T'Pol. "Who else did the Ambassador assault?"

"Well, you!" Trip erupted. _No, no. Must not yell at T'Pol._ "I-I'm sorry, T'Pol," he said, lowering his voice. "I didn't mean to yell at you."

"I am not offended," T'Pol replied. "However, you are mistaken. Ambassador Soval did not assault me."

Trip's hands balled together into two fists. "Why did you collapse then?"

T'Pol hesitated. _How much of the truth do I tell this man?_ she asked inwardly. "The hand gesture the Ambassador initiated is known as an affectionate gesture. His doing so reminded me of my own affectionate gesture with you in the Mess Hall."

Trip's face blossomed into a wide smile. "I can be a lot more affectionate than that, darlin'," he whispered.

"Considering the reactions I have been having towards you, Commander, I believe that to be unwise," replied T'Pol. "Further, it is inappropriate to refer to me as 'darling'."

_Of course. I only want to make you happy. Make you feel as good as you make me feel. But I make you sick. I hurt you._ " Oh, T'Pol, I'm sorry. I wouldn't hurt you for the world," Trip murmured. Turning towards Phlox, his voice rose in anger several degrees. "I'm going to leave now, Doctor."

"Just a moment, Commander Tucker," the Doctor objected. "You have been experiencing large fluctuations of adrenaline in your body."

"So? Maybe it was that damn Vulcan nerve pinch," Trip replied.

"That is unlikely," replied the Denobulan. "The nerve pinch often serves as a relaxant and as you are awake now and still irritated, it is unlikely to be caused by the nerve pinch."

"Actually, Doctor," corrected T'Pol. "It is quite likely that the Commander's body is still undergoing change due to the nerve pinch. The pinch has not been performed on many humans. The few that have been subjected have had reactions of a varying degree. Thus, in all likelihood, Commander Tucker's symptoms will wane within a week."

The Denobulan physician looked at T'Pol and then back to his anxious patient. His gut instinct was telling him there was something wrong with the engineer that had nothing to do with the nerve pinch. Yet, T'Pol did know more about the nerve pinch than Phlox, even if the physician had studied on Vulcan for some time.

"Alright, Commander. You can go. But if you experience any additional symptoms, I want you to come see me immediately. And I expect to see you in a week for a checkup regardless," Phox instructed him.

"Sure thing, Doc," Trip replied, hopping off the bed. "See ya around."

As Trip turned to leave, the Denobulan turned back towards T'Pol. "Now, Sub-Commander, let's have a little chat about your illness, shall we?"

* * *

Archer rubbed his eyes tiredly after his guests had retired to their quarters. Turning towards Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato, he flashed a small grin. "Well, that didn't go too badly, did it?" he joked lightly.

"It was less than catastrophic," Malcolm replied.

Hoshi laughed. "You're both being too fatalistic. Ambassador Soval did promise to contact his government to discuss the possibility of sharing technology with the Andorians. That's a good start."

"A hell of a better start than the Vulcans ever gave humans," Archer grumbled.

Malcolm and Hoshi exchanged a glance. It was definitely time to excuse themselves.

"Well, sir, thank you for inviting us," Malcolm said, rising to his feet.

"Yes, Captain, it was delightful," Hoshi remarked, rising to hers as well.

"Say, Malcolm, Hoshi, why don't you join me for breakfast tomorrow morning? Since Shran wants to explore the various skin shades of the crew, he's eating in the mess hall and Soval has indicated that he wishes to dine with the Sub-Commander alone, if she is awake at that time. " Archer suggested.

_Oh, not again,_ Malcolm bemoaned. _Of course, if Hoshi's joining us..._

Hoshi nodded. "Certainly, Captain," she replied and slipped Malcolm a small glance out of the corner of her eye.

"I'd be delighted to, sir," Malcolm agreed readily. "But in the meantime, I have armory reports to write. You'll call me if there's any change in the Commander's condition?"

"Absolutely. Good night, Lieutenant," Archer greeted. "Ensign, can I speak with you a moment?"

Perplexed, and a bit disappointed that she wouldn't be able to accompany Malcolm on the turbolift, Hoshi nodded sat back down as Malcolm exited the Mess Hall.

"I have a favor to ask of you, Hoshi," Archer began. "Tomorrow during breakfast, see if you can get Malcolm to open up a little. Tell us a little about himself."

"I'll try, sir. But the last time I tried that over a meal, I wasn't very successful," Hoshi remarked.

"But the Sub-Commander was right. He does seem to relax around you. I'm certain that if I had invited him by himself, there's no way he would have agreed as readily as he did this evening," Archer replied.

"The Sub-Commander?" Hoshi asked a bit confused.

In reply, Archer related the conversation he had conducted with T'Pol in the turbolift. Hoshi felt her cheeks turn involuntarily pink. Still, the Captain didn't seem to be picking up on the fact that T'Pol had been playing matchmaker.

"I'll try my best, Captain," Hoshi replied.

"Thank you, Hoshi."

As Hoshi left the Mess Hall, she shook her head in wonderment. A Vulcan playing matchmaker? It gave a whole new meaning to "To seek out and explore strange new worlds..."

Fortunately, since T'Pol was her roommate for the next couple of days, Hoshi would be able to question her about it.

As Archer left the Mess Hall, he fought down a sigh. Malcolm and Hoshi had been wonderful company. But he missed Trip and T'Pol. _I hope Hoshi can get Malcolm to open up a bit. With Soval threatening to report Trip and T'Pol's relationship to the High Command and Trip facing a possible court martial, Malcolm and Hoshi may become my permanent dinner companions._

With that thought in mind, Archer headed towards sickbay.


	16. Confrontation In Sickbay

Archer took a deep breath before walking into sickbay. Several deep breaths in fact. There were days when he would have settled on being a pilot. An engineer. An armory officer. Anything but being a Captain. _If I weren't the Captain, I wouldn't have to face the possibility of throwing my best friend in the brig._

The painful thought was soon replaced with a feeling of anger. _If my best friend had exercised some common sense, I wouldn't be in this situation in the first place._

_Damnit, Trip, I hope you weren't that stupid._

But for the first time in a long time, Archer wasn't looking at the glass as being half full. It was looking as close to half empty as it could go.

With a sigh, Archer headed into sickbay. There, sitting calmly on a biobed, sat Sub-Commander T'Pol, talking to Dr. Phlox. At the sight of the female Vulcan, Archer's temper rose considerably. He was uncertain exactly who the subject of his wrath was. Was he angry at T'Pol, for being the catalyst of the situation, Trip for being in the situation, or himself...for being a fool.

_Calm down,_ Archer instructed himself. _There's no evidence any misconduct took place. At least not on Trip's behalf._

Yes, it was entirely possible that a trained Ambassador would lie. Entirely. _Vulcans are sneaky._ Archer reminded himself, thinking of Captain Vanik. *Still, I've never known one to tell an outright lie...*

He stood at the door of sickbay for a moment, contemplating that thought. The only Vulcan he really trusted was sitting in sickbay. _And having an affair with my best friend,_ he said silently. Pushing that thought out of his mind, he forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. He was the Captain. He might not like it much, but that came above and beyond any other priority: friendships, love interests, personal feelings. Two years ago, he might not have realized that. But two years in space had added greatly to Jonathan Archer's sense of responsibility. And right now he had to act like a Captain. _I'll deal with person issues later,_ he told himself.

He walked into sickbay.

"Ah, Captain Archer," Dr. Phlox greeted him. Archer contemplated briefly that the Denobulan looked unhappy to see him. Determining that to be his imagination, Archer proceeded. After all, Dr. Phlox was never unhappy to see anyone.

"T'Pol, I need to discuss something with you," Archer informed the Vulcan. When she turned to look at him, Archer was not prepared to hide his shock. As a result, he let out a small gasp of surprise.

The Vulcan looked _tired._ Vulcans don't look tired. And T'Pol shouldn't look tired. _She's had a nice, prolonged sleep._ There were deep, pronounced rings around her eyes. Her shoulders slumped slightly, shaking that always in place perfect posture. It wasn't something Archer would have noticed on a human. But on his Vulcan science officer, it was as noticeable as if she has suddenly sprouted spots.

"Is my presence that unsightly, Captain?" T'Pol asked. Her voice betrayed the slightest quiver. _Was that emotion?_ Archer thought in wonderment. _Or have I truly lost touch with all reality?_ True, T'Pol sometimes demonstrated feelings and emotions, although she would never admit it. Still, they were always delivered in the same perfectly controled voice.

T'Pol was not in control. Archer didn't like it one bit. He couldn't determine which emotion it was. Irritation? While speaking to him, that was most likely.

"Captain?" T'Pol spoke again, and Archer was certain this time that her voice betrayed irritation.

Finding his voice, he finally managed, "My god, T'Pol, are you alright?"

T'Pol closed her eyes briefly before responding. To Archer, it appeared as though she were fighting a battle to control herself. Inwardly, T'Pol wondered both at her Captain's ignorance and her own inability to control herself. The anger she had at herself was only magnified by this conversation. _And yet, it has only begun._ T'Pol called upon all of her Vulcan training to remain calm before she responded. "I am dying, Captain."

That was the last response he expected to hear. He had expected the patented "I am fine, Captain." It would have been an answer he knew to be false...yet, he could have dealt with that answer. He had no idea how to deal with that. "Why?" he managed.

"You know of my illness. Its magnitude has increased," she replied.

"The Pa'naar Syndrome or...the Trip illness?" he asked, lacking a better word.

T'Pol did not answer for a moment. Finally, Phlox spoke up. "Both, Captain." He did not add that he did not find it prudent to call it the 'Trip illness.'

T'Pol filled the gap Archer's silence left. "You had something you wish to discuss, Captain?" she inquired.

_How do I discuss this with a dying person?_ Archer wondered. That was inappropriate. Callous. It was also, unfortuanately, his duty. Glancing around the sickbay, he noticed for the first time that Trip was not there. He had been so distracted by T'Pol that he hadn't realized it sooner. "Doctor, where is Commander Tucker?" he demanded.

"The Commander awoke, and I allowed him to leave sickbay," Phlox replied.

Captain Archer frowned. "Why didn't you call me when he awoke?"

"You did not give any indication you wished for me to do so," replied the Denobulan.

Cursing silently, Archer turned back to the matter at hand. "Doctor, if you'll excuse us, Sub-Commander T'Pol and I—"

"No, Captain, I do not think that to be wise," replied the physician.

"Doctor Phlox, I gave you an order," Archer growled. "And I expect it to be followed.

"I am aware of your order, Captain. However, I am also aware of the nature of the conversation you intend to have with the Sub-Commander. As her physician, I feel it could endanger her health. Therefore, I intend to stay in the vicinity in case that proves to be a valid concern."

Deciding it wise not to press the issue, Archer turned back to T'Pol. "I need to know the nature of your relationship with Commander Tucker."

T'Pol looked at him sharply. "Commander Tucker and I are colleagues. He is the chief engineer and third in command of the ship. I am the science officer and second in command. As you are well aware, Captain."

If situation had not been so grim, Archer would have laughed. _I hope I have time to reflect on this in the future, and laugh in retrospect,_ he thought to himself. That thought seemed more and more futile with each passing moment.

"I'm aware of that, T'Pol," Archer sighed. "I'm talking on a more personal basis."

"A more personal basis?" T'Pol questioned. "I am afraid I do not understand, Captain."

"You and Trip spend a lot of time together. Surely you have feelings that go beyond—"

"Vulcans do not feel, Captain," T'Pol interrupted him. Again, her voice quivered, signifying a loss of control. This time, she left Archer no room for doubt. She was angry. Still, he had to press on. It was his duty.

"That is an old line, Sub-Commander," he replied. "And one neither you, nor I, nor Commander Tucker believe. Now, if it's fraternization you're worried about, you don't need to be. Since you aren't a Starfleet officer—"

"I have not fraternized with Commander Tucker," T'Pol informed him. "Further, it would do you well to not speculate upon species other than your own when you have limited knowledge of their lifestyles, Captain."

Archer gritted his teeth. Sensing a confrontation between them, Phlox interrupted on behalf of his patient. "Surely, Sub-Commander, you consider Commander Tucker a friend?" he inquired of the Vulcan. In return for his services, Phlox received a glare from both the Captain and T'Pol.

"Vulcans do not have friendships. He is an acquaintance and a colleague. One whose presence is both illogical and damaging to my existence. " Looking at Archer, she continued. "Is there reason for you to believe otherwise, Captain?"

It was very obvious to Dr. Phlox that T'Pol was clinging desperately to her well constructed walls of propriety in order to deny what she truly felt for the engineer. Her second to last sentence caused him a great deal of grief, as he knew the double meaning behind it. He could only hope the Captain would as well.

Archer did not grasp it. _Why is T'Pol arguing what is plain as day to all of us?_ he wondered angrily.

"Yes, T'Pol, I do have reason to believe otherwise," Archer replied.

"Captain—" Phlox began, but Archer interrupted him.

"You can stay for medical reasons, Doctor, but you will not interfere with the nature of this investigation, do you understand?" Archer demanded. There was a pause, and Phlox nodded again. Archer was certain he was being given the same look he had when he came in. Turning back to T'Pol, he continued. "When Trip collapsed, I brought him to sickbay. Frankly, Sub-Commander, you talk in your sleep. Unless you don't recall what you were dreaming—"

"I recall."

She wasn't making this easy for him, Archer thought irritably. "T'Pol—"

"I have told you, Captain. I am not intimate with Commander Tucker. He and I have not fraternized in the fashion you believe. Further, you should be well acquainted on my beliefs towards fraternization, as you have prompted me to speak them several times."

Archer sighed. It was both a sigh of frustration and a sigh of relief. "But in your sleep, you said—"

T'Pol looked him firmly in the eye to reply. "You recall, Captain, that I once asked if you if your dreams were pleasant?"

Archer nodded, remembering the time well. It was back when he believed...no. Best not to go there.

"I no longer envy you." T'Pol did not add the reason she no longer envied him. _Pleasant dreams are not so pleasant when you awaken to find them untrue,_ she lamented inwardly.

Archer felt as though the wind had truly been knocked out of him. T'Pol had just admitted having feelings for Trip. "T'Pol . . if you feel that way...why...the rules of fraternization don't apply to you. Hell, even if they did, you can't tell me you believe I would enforce them anyway."

"No, you would not. There are several members of the crew romantically involved," T'Pol remarked.

_Something you never brought to my attention,_ Archer noted. Yep, that pretty much proved none of this had to do with her views towards fraternization. _I'm a fool._ Archer decided. An absolute fool.

"Since the rules do not apply to me, Captain, is there a reason you wish to discuss this matter? Or was it simply a matter of personal inquiry?" T'Pol asked him.

Archer related Soval's claims. He had to pause mid-way through his speech, at the term "affectionate", as T'Pol grappled with a headache. When he was finished, he waited for her response.

"Then you must place Commander Tucker in the brig," she said simply.

Both Archer and Phlox were surprised to hear her say such a thing. "But-you just told me—"Archer began, but again was interrupted.

"I told you that Commander Tucker and myself are not romantically or sexually involved," T'Pol responded. "However, that does not prevent him from...having unrequited feelings for myself."

"And you believe Trip would do something like that? Try to assault an Ambassador?" Archer inquired.

T'Pol looked at the human for a moment. _Do you think I wish to believe it?_ she wondered in amazement. "Vulcans do not lie, Captain. I have known Ambassador Soval for many years. If he says Commander Tucker assaulted him, then that is what occurred. Further, Commander Tucker is a highly emotional man. Thirdly, when he awoke, Trip did proposition me in an inappropriate manner."

"Proposition you?"

The question prompted another headache. This one even stronger than the one before. Deciding he had enough information for now, Archer resolved to go question Trip. But there was one small matter still left unresolved.

"Since when do you call him Trip?" Archer asked. He made his tone light, in hopes of not offending her. From the startled expression on her face, he was unsuccessful.

"I...have lapsed in my meditation, Captain," she replied. "My illnesses too are taking affect."

"Take as much time as you need off, Sub-Commander," he instructed. "I don't want to see you back on the bridge until you're feeling better." At her protests, he waved his hand to dismiss them. "You will feel better, T'Pol."

T'Pol nodded. "You will provide Commander Tucker with the opportunity to defend himself?" she inquired. At Archer's surprised look, she replied, "It is his right."

"Yes, T'Pol, it is," Archer murmured softy, even more convinced now than he had been before that she cared for his best friend. "In fact, that's where I'm heading now. Don't worry, Malcolm'll be there with me. And you know he's a stickler for protocol."

T'Pol nodded. "Lieutenant Reed shall see that Commander Tucker receives a fair trial," she replied.

Deciding not to take offense, Archer grinned at her protectiveness. "I'm sure he will. Speaking of which, that reminds me. Ambassador Soval requested to dine with you alone tomorrow morning for breakfast."

"Was the Ambassador in sickbay during my...dream state?" she asked. Again, her voice quivered and Archer nearly swore he heard fear in her voice.

"Yes," Archer replied. "He had to help me carry Trip to sickbay. Come on, T'Pol, I'll walk you to your quarters on the way to Trip's."

"He most likely is in engineering or the mess hall," T'Pol responded.

Archer cocked his head. "How do you know?"

"He was irritated when he left. When the Commander is irritated, he either eats or works. He does not sit idly in his quarters. Although, if he would take the time to learn to meditate, it would be immensely beneficial," T'Pol informed the Captain.

"Why was he irritated?" Archer wondered.

Dr. Phlox spoke up. "The Commander is still feeling some after affects of the Vulcan nerve pinch, Captain. He has a sufficient amount of Adrenaline in his body which is making him slightly irritable."

"Is it dangerous to the crew? To himself?"

Phlox shook his head. "It is not dangerous to the crew. The Sub-Commander did not believe it to be dangerous to the Commander's health either. With her recommendation, I allowed him to leave sickbay."

_Yes, T'Pol seems to know a lot about Trip's well being, doesn't she?_ Archer noted. As they left sickbay, both Archer and T'Pol felt a feeling of dread. T'Pol for her upcoming breakfast with Soval and Archer for his upcoming confrontation with Trip.


	17. Ramifications

Trip stood in the shower as the cold water pounded down upon his back. Tilting his head, he allowed the icy liquid to drench his hair, flattening the golden locks and molding them to his scalp.

_Still too hot,_ his head registered.

_Why aren't there any bathtubs on the Enterprise?_ Trip wondered irritably, as he repositioned the water to hit the front of his body instead of the back. He wanted nothing so badly as the chance to completely submerge his body under _cold_ water.

_But I'm stuck with these damn showers._ The showers were small, compressed, stuffy. The three clean, white walls felt as though they were drawing closer and closer with each minute he remained in the shower. The very cleanness of the showers angered him. _So damn perfect,_ he chastised inwardly. _Not a spot of imperfection anywhere. God forbid there be a speck of dirt._

_Or emotion._

Trip cursed softly as the thought of T'Pol weasled its way into his brain. _Ever since I woke up from that nerve pinch, I've been thinking of her entirely too much._

His body rebelled against his attempt at restraint and physically showed signs of his desire. Groaning, Trip double checked the controls. The hot water was completely disabled, but what should have been cold water was having no effect on Trip.

Giving up, Trip turned off the water. Stepping outside the shower, he began to towel off and dress himself. Still feeling uncomfortably warm, Trip decided on a pair of shorts and a loose Hawaiian shirt.

Realizing himself to be not only uncomfortably warm, but hungry as well, Trip headed towards the mess hall.

On the way there, Trip reflected on the exceedingly small size of the ship. The crew of the Enterprise crowded in on him in the same fashion that the shower walls had. It did not frighten Trip, but it did cause him a great deal of annoyance. He was greatly relieved to find himself alone in the Mess Hall.

Upon his arrival, Trip realized he was not just hungry, but ravenous. He truly believed he could have eaten an entire raw cow, had it been placed before him.

_Disgusting, Trip,_ he chastised. _What would T'Pol think of that?_

Unwillingly, his body told him just what he thought of T'Pol.

Cursing, Trip took his plate of food and several glasses of water to a table,where he planned to sit down and eat in solitude. _Maybe after I've eaten, I can go back to my quarters and try to get some sleep. T'Pol said these symptoms should go away soon._

Maybe he'd feel better tomorrow. Maybe.

* * *

Trip was halfway through his meal when Archer and Malcolm found him. _Ugh, can't a man get any alone time on this ship?_ Trip complained to himself. Out loud, he greeted them as politely as possible. "Hello, Mal. Cap'n."

Trip grimaced in resentment as Archer sat down across from him. _Well, just invite yourself, why don't ya?_ Trip couldn't decide what made him more irate- the arrogant manner in which Archer invited himself to be Trip's lunch partner or the seemingly condescending manner in which Malcolm towered above them both. Malcolm's arms hung at his sides, as though they were ready to grab the phase pistol that hung snugly at his waist.

_Phase pistol? Since when does Malcolm carry a phase pistol at his waist when he's off duty?_ Trip wondered. "Hey, Mal, ya know ya look a bit silly with your phase pistol hanging there like that?"

Malcolm remained quiet. "Geez, it was a joke, Malcolm. Hahaha, funny funny?"

"Commander," Archer began, "Malcolm and I are here because we need to speak to you."

"Fire away," Trip replied then flashed a grin. "I prob'ly shouldn't say that in front of Malcolm, huh? He might take it literally. Really, Cap'n, ya think lettin' him carry around those pistols is a good idea? It's libel to reinforce his paranoia."

_Damn, the Captain isn't smiling either,_ Trip noticed. "Well, get on with it so I can eat in peace. The last thing I want is to be stuck in a room with two humorless bastards," Trip said to the Captain.

Archer's mouth tightened into a line at his last comment. "Excuse me, Commander?" he said angrily, emphasizing the rank.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Cap'n—" Trip began but Archer interrupted him.

"This is a formal investigation, Commander, and I expect you to behave in a manner fitting of such a ceremony."

Malcolm watched the Captain and Commander Tucker in morbid fascination. While Trip was usually casual in his relationship with the Enteprise crew, this kind of blatant disregard for the Captain's rank was unheard of. _It just isn't like Trip,_ a voice argued in the Brit's head.

_I must not think of that right now. Right now he is Commander Tucker, not Trip. And I am Lieutenant Reed, armory officer, not Malcolm, Trip's friend._ For the second time that night, Malcolm lamented being a Reed.

"A formal investigation? What are you investigating me doing?" Trip demanded.

The Captain did not answer. He was, for once, going by the book. Trip's investigation would proceed exactly according to Starfleet regulations.

Malcolm was rather sorry that the Captain had chosen the present situation to begin following protocol. Regardless, it was Malcolm's duty to inform the Commander, "Commander Tucker, you stand accused of attempted assault and jeopardizing the mission of the Enterprise."

"Assault?" Trip said in surprise. "Who the hell did I supposedly assault? And what mission exactly did I 'jeopardize'?"

Malcolm was thankful to have the Captain take over. "Ambassador Soval has accused you of acting hostile towards him in his quarters. Doing so placed the peace conference in jeopardy."

"Soval? That bastard," Trip spat. At the look he received from the Captain, Trip grew more irritated. "He assaulted me! He gave me the Vulcan nerve pinch."

"He says he was only doing that in self defense," Archer replied quietly.

Malcolm's stomach began to knot. Trip was growing increasingly irritable, and Archer increasingly calm. _I don't like it, I don't like it, I don't like it,_ Malcolm chanted quietly.

"Self defense?" Trip snorted. "Didn't know lying was so damn logical."

"Tell us what you remember, beginning with dropping off Ambassador Shran," Archer suggested.

"Why should I? Seems to me that ya already have made up your mind. Why don't ya just have Malcolm toss me in the brig?" Trip retorted.

Malcolm was horrified. _Oh, bloody hell. What's gotten into him?_ The armory officer could practically hear the Captain's gritting his teeth. _Not good, not good, not bloody good at all._ Malcolm noted.

"Maybe that's a good idea. Malcolm, escort Commander Tucker to the brig. Perhaps after he's been there a couple days he'll want to talk to us."

Malcolm didn't move. "Commander Tucker, it would be most prudent of you to comply with the Captain's questions," he told the man he considered his friend.

_Please, please just answer the Captain's question. Don't be an arse, please._

"Lieutenant Reed! Escort Commander Tucker to the brig. That's an order," Archer commanded.

The full impact of Archer's wrath was not lost upon Malcolm. However, T'Pol had been correct in her assessment of the situation. Malcolm would insure this to be a _fair_ inquiry.

"I require a statement from the Commander before I can lock him in the brig, Sir," Reed stated to Archer. "Unless you wish to change the charge from possible assault to insubordination."

Archer looked at the man a minute before turning back to Trip. "Well, Commander, it's up to you. The ball's back in your court."

Trip sat back in his chair and glared at the Captain. "Fine, Archer," he said, dismissively. "After we dropped off Shran, I starting asking that bastard Soval about what he'd done to T'Pol."

"What did he do to the Sub-Commander?" Archer asked, carefully using the Vulcan's rank as opposed to her name.

"Ya saw what he did! Or at least what I thought he did. But I don't know...T'Pol says..." Trip's voice trailed off. He was having a great deal of trouble concentrating, and it was making him quite agitated.

"He was trying to be 'affectionate' with her," Trip finally managed.

"And that made you angry?" Archer asked carefully.

"Hell, yes, it made me angry. Who does he think he is, comin' on to the ship like that, touchin' T'Pol without her permission?" Trip spat angrily. Scenes flashed before him as clear as though they were happening for the first time.

* * *

Turning towards T'Pol, Soval raised his hand in the standard Vulcan salute. T'Pol raised hers in the same greeting, and Soval leaned forward to touch his hand to hers.

* * *

A look of surprise flashed across T'Pol's face...she had not been expecting the gesture. Trip was certain it was an unwelcome one...T'Pol's clutching her forehead in agony...T'Pol falling to her knees...

* * *

Archer was at her side immediately...Seeing Trip rush to help as well, Archer shook his head. "No, Trip," he said softly. "Don't."

* * *

Archer picking her up, Archer cradling her lovely body close to his...Archer inhaling her scent...Archer bending close enough to kiss her...Archer carrying her to sickbay...

* * *

"...Is the Vulcan Ambassador for a very important mission and I expect my senior crew to treat him accordingly. Are you saying you allowed your feelings for the Sub-Commander T'Pol to affect your judgment with Ambassador Soval?" Archer questioned.

"I was angry, Cap'n," Trip admitted. "The question is why weren't you? Aren't ya supposed to be the Captain of the fucking ship? Or were you to busy tryin' to force yourself on T'Pol that ya failed to do your duty as Captain?" The jealousy coursing through Trip's veins overrode his common sense. This man sitting in front of him, daring to touch his T'Pol...as though he had the right to be _affectionate_ with her.

The bottom fell out of Malcolm's world at that point. _I'm going to have to lock my best mate in the brig. Bugger, bugger, bugger._

"Your point, Commander Tucker?" When Captain Archer spoke, his voice was deadly quiet. If possible, the knot in Malcolm's stomach only grew tighter.

"My point, Cap'n, is that I was only lookin' out for the best interest of the crew. Somethin' ya should have been doing, but were not. Because you were too busy—"

"I have not 'forced' myself on the Sub-Commander. Further, that's a very dangerous allegation, Commander Tucker," Archer warned.

"Really? Then perhaps I imagined the Frankenstein 'date'? Or—"

"Captain Archer!" The sound of Ambassador Soval's voice interrupted whatever Trip was going to say next.

Malcolm, Trip and Archer turned to see the Vulcan Ambassador walking towards them.

"Ambassador, I'll be with you in just a moment," Archer informed the Vulcan.

"It is a matter of utmost importance," the Ambassador stated.

With a sigh, Archer turned to Trip. "You, Commander, are confined to quarters until you hear otherwise."

"Fine," retorted Trip as he stood from the table.

"Lieutenant Reed, escort the Commander to his quarters," Archer instructed the Lieutenant.

Reed nodded. "Let's go, Commander."

For a moment, Trip was going to comply, until he heard Soval say to Archer, "Has you informed the Sub-Commander of my wishes for tomorrow?"

Trip swirled around to face Soval. Malcolm reached for his arm, but Trip shrugged it off easily, as the armory officer had not been prepared for the need to physically restrain Trip.

Marching up to Soval, Trip came nose to nose with the Vulcan. "You need to stay away from T'Pol. She's not you're property to do with what ya chose," he told the Vulcan.

Malcolm moved to restrain Trip, but Archer, standing behind Soval, shook his head. He didn't want to hear this conversation, but he had a hunch he _needed_ to.

Ambassador Soval looked at Trip with disdain. "What I do with the Sub-Commander is none of your concern, Commander Tucker," he replied. "Like hell it's not. She's sick, and I won't have you aggravatin' her," Trip argued.

"I am aware of her illness. She has apparently become too ill to proceed on this ship," Soval replied stoically.

Trip's voice rose. "She's not goin' anywhere! Ya aren't takin' her off the Enterprise."

"You are mistaken," replied Soval.

Trip snapped. The jealousy, anger, and irritation he had felt since leaving sickbay had steadily been increasing. Archer had made it worse, with his incessant interference.

Soval completely broke Trip's resolve.

Charles Tucker III, chief engineer of the first warp 5 Earth ship, slugged the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth square in the nose. The ensuing _crack_ of bone and squish of green liquid was very satisfying to Trip.

Unfortunately, the feeling immediately following his gratification was not as pleasing, as he found himself restrained by one very strong, very muscular armory officer.

"That will be enough, Commander Tucker," the Brit stated quietly.

Archer stared at Trip in disbelief. Here was conclusive proof that the very thing Archer had been trying so hard not to believe...was true. After all, if Trip would attack Soval in Archer's presence, what was to stop him from doing so when the two were alone? Forcing himself back into Captain mode, Archer instructed

Reed, "Take him to the brig, Lieutenant. Place a guard outside his cell at all times."

"Aye, Sir," came the reply.

Malcolm released Trip and brandished his phase pistol. "Come along, Commander Tucker. Please do not make me use this weapon," Malcolm added. Malcolm and Trip received several stares as they proceeded towards the brig. For his part, Trip felt physically drained and did not have the energy to argue with Malcolm. The anger and defiance he had felt in the Mess Hall were gone, replaced by physical exertion. Still, the sight of the chief engineer being escorted by the armory officer at phase pistol point was enough to make several crewmen stop and stare.

Ignoring them, Malcolm and Trip arrived at their destination without incident. Once there, Trip found his voice once again.

"How could ya, Malcolm?" the Commander inquired of the Lieutenant. "I thought ya were my friend."

"I am your friend, Commander. As is Captain Archer," Malcolm replied calmly. "However, my hands are tied in this matter. Now kindly step into the brig."

Trip complied. Slumping down in his cell, he turned his blue eyes up to look at Malcolm sadly. "No you aren't," he whispered.

Malcolm stared the man. "How can you say that? This has nothing to do with me! You're the one who was insubordinate and assaulted a high ranking alien official. How dare you try to make me feel guilty for doing my duty?"

"Your duty?" Spat Trip. "You're allowing a conniving, weasley bastard to room the ship. One that threatens the well being of the second in command. How is that doing your duty, Lieutenant?"

"If he was a threat, Commander, the Captain would not permit him to be on the ship," Malcolm responded. "You are simply allowing your personal feelings for the Sub-Commander to interfere with your position."

Anger boiled inside Trip, wanting to hurt Malcolm. _Why can't he see? He must know what Soval is planning on doing...Malcolm stands in the way too._ Instantly, Trip's voice elevated. ""Ya know how you said you invested too much time tryin' to figure me out, Lieutenant? Well, ya aren't the only one. I'm just sorry. It was obviously a waste of my time."

Trip's parting shot was a low blow. To the armory officer's credit, his armor appeared unflappable as he moved to the comm and summoned a junior officer to the brig to stand guard. Malcolm's mask remained firmly in place until long after he was safely in his quarters and snuggled under the sheets. There, for the first time since childhood, Malcolm allowed tears to be shed. His original rational was that he would allow only one tear to be shed. For the loss of his friendship. That one grew to two. One for his friendship; one for the loss of Commander Tucker's brilliant career. The two became three: one for his friendship; one for the loss of Commander Tucker's brilliant career, and one for the relationship between Trip and T'Pol which would never be able to prosper.

Macolm indulged in one more tear, for the unfairness of it all.


	18. Acknowledgements

After T'Pol had returned to her quarters following her confrontation with Captain Archer, she began to meditate immediately. Verbal language was not the only one Ensign Sato spoke. Thus, even though they were technically sharing T'Pol's quarters, Hoshi knew when to make herself scarce. She left to allow T'Pol some much needed privacy time. It was 2330 before Hoshi returned and she was somewhat surprised to discover the Vulcan still awake.

"Oh! T'Pol, I thought you'd be finished meditating for now," Hoshi lamented. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Please come in, Ensign," T'Pol greeted her. "There is no reason for you to believe you are intruding. Until the Ambassadors leave, these are your quarters as well as mine."

"Well...I know," Hoshi fumbled. "But...well..."

"Well what, Ensign?" T'Pol asked. Her headache had remained and T'Pol found herself having decidedly un-Vulcan irritation towards the linguist.

"Um...there's something I wanted to discuss with you," Hoshi managed finally.

T'Pol nodded. "What do you wish to discuss, Ensign?" she inquired.

"It's just...well, I'm having breakfast with the Captain tomorrow," Hoshi stumbled.

T'Pol nodded again, wondering if her headache would ever cease. "Is Lieutenant Reed joining you?" she asked the frustrated Ensign in front of her.

Hoshi sat down on the bed in surprise. _The Captain was telling the truth!_ she noted. Of course, Hoshi hadn't believed that the Captain had been _lying_ but the likelihood of a _Vulcan_ playing matchmaker...it was still too much for Hoshi to fathom.

"He is joining us," Hoshi commented. "The Captain saysitwasyouridea." The last part of her sentence came out together, in a rush.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "That is correct."

There was a moment of silence, every nanosecond of which grated on Hoshi's nerves. Finally, she demanded, "Well, what prompted you to...?" Again Hoshi trailed off, searching for the correct, non-offensive term.

T'Pol looked at Hoshi in confusion. "You indicated you were attracted to Lieutenant Reed. He reciprocates that attraction."

Hoshi flushed. "But...well, you're a Vulcan," she managed. _Great, Hoshi, that sounded really intelligent._

"Yes. On Vulcan, couples do not come together because of a mutual attraction, as humans are wont to do. Vulcan couples have a mediator," T'Pol informed her. "Usually the mediator comes in form of their parents. However, that is not always the case."

"A mediator...like a matchmaker?" Hoshi questioned. _What I thought was un-Vulcan behavior couldn't have been more Vulcan._

"A term I am unfamiliar with, but it is astonishingly accurate. The mediator is in charge of 'making' the 'matches.' In the case of you and Lieutenant Reed, I deemed it appropriate to assume the role of mediator...or 'matchmaker,'" T'Pol informed her.

"Well...uh...thanks. But why us?" Hoshi wondered.

T'Pol could feel her headache increasing with the tone of this conversation. "You are equally attracted to one another. It is logical," she informed the Ensign.

"But mediators don't act on attraction, do they?" Hoshi pressed.

T'Pol's brows furrowed a bit. "No, they do not. However, neither you nor Lieutenant Reed are Vulcan. Attraction is important to your species."

Hoshi nodded and began to get ready for bed when she heard T'Pol speak again. "There is a logical component for my role as a mediator for you and Lieutenant Reed."

"Oh, really?" Hoshi asked in surprise. _It's okay, T'Pol, you don't have to rationalize everything to me._

"Indeed. Lieutenant Reed represses his emotions exceedingly well-almost as well as a Vulcan."

_That's for damn sure,_ Hoshi thought with a grin.

"You, on the other hand, are much more...emotional and empathetic in your expressions. The combination shall serve to counterbalance either tendency towards extreme." T'Pol paused then remarked, "Something your offspring should find immensely beneficial."

Hoshi laughed softly. "Are we discussing me and Malcolm or...another couple?" she pressed of the Vulcan.

"It is late, Ensign. I require sleep," T'Pol replied.

_Hmm...Vulcans need mediators huh?_ Hoshi thought as she crawled into bed. Then she thought with a grin of her future 'offspring.' _I wonder how we can make T'Pol a human sounding name_ Despite herself, Hoshi couldn't help but chuckle at the idea of a 'Polly Reed.'

* * *

The next morning, T'Pol sat quietly with Ambassador Soval in the Mess Hall. Soval, on the other hand, was not at a loss of words.

"These humans...how do you find them bearable to live with? They are uncouth, uncivilized, barbaric, and childish. Further, their odor is appalling,"

_I am certain they find certain Vulcan traits undesirable as well._ T'Pol thought. Unwillingly, her mind recalled confrontations with Commander Tucker.

* * *

"Then again, loyalty's an emotion, isn't it?"

"Proving just how consistent you Vulcans can be."

"Sounds like your getting a little volatile yourself, Sub-Commander. I thought you had your emotions all locked up? Having a little problem, are you?" "Say one more word of that gibberish and I'm going to split you in two."

"Class D! That's uninhabitable. Why are you fightin' over it?"

* * *

"T'Pol. Are you listening to me?"

_It would be easier if you would say something interesting,_ T'Pol thought inwardly. To Soval, she merely replied, "Of course. You are unhappy with the lifestyle of humans. It is unlikely that they will change it for you."

Soval leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands in front of him. "You enjoy your time on the ship, Sub-Commander?" he demanded.

"I find my work on the vessel to be intellectually rewarding," she responded carefully. To T'Pol's great irritation, her headache had not diminished as her previous ones had. Thus, she found having the patience to listen to Ambassador Soval quite taxing on her nerves.

"How emotional of you," replied Ambassador Soval.

"As is hatred," replied T'Pol. "As is bigotry." As was the feeling of satisfaction that swept over T'Pol as she saw the reaction her words provoked in the Ambassador. Changing the subject, she asked, "Has something occurred to your nose?"

"Yes. Your rather irrational engineer, Charles Tucker, I believe is his name, succeeding in breaking it," Soval informed her. He watched her carefully for any signs of emotion such a revelation might reveal.

"His name is Charles Tucker III," T'Pol responded. "What actions provoked Commander Tucker into striking you?"

"I did nothing," Soval replied. "Rather, your chief engineer—"

"Commander Tucker is an irrational human. Regardless, he would not strike without being provided with what he viewed to be ample provocation," T'Pol argued.

Soval's look was one of considerable disdain. "You have feelings for the human," he remarked.

"No," T'Pol informed him. "I do not. I simply know his behavior."

"A lie, T'Pol? You become more human than I would have thought possible. Did you learn nothing from your experience with David? Your other human?" Soval questioned.

T'Pol was quiet for a moment. "We will not speak of that human. It is illogical to do so. He has no purpose in this conversation."

They ate in silence for several minutes before Soval remarked, "He spoke of you. He is concerned that I would remove you from the ship."

T'Pol regarded him. "What reason did he have to believe that?"

"I told him your illness had progressed too far for you to continue serving on the ship. You need to be removed. That much is obvious."

T'Pol's headache increased as she realized Trip had been protecting her. It took all of her Vulcan reserve to push the thought away. "You provoked him," she accused the Ambassador.

"I did not," Soval maintained.

"It was unnecessary of you to make such allegations when you alone do not have the power to remove me from this ship. You knew it would upset Commander Tucker. It was unnecessary," T'Pol's voice barely concealed the anger she felt for the man sitting in front of her.

"Why should it have provoked Commander Tucker? Unless you are pursuing an inappropriate relationship with the Commander?" Soval asked. "As for my authority, I am certain the High Command will agree with my recommendations as soon as they realize the extent of your fraternization with the human."

T'Pol set her spoon down on the table, fighting the urge to strike the man in front of her. _My emotions have been polluted. I will not allow Soval to see it._ Before she could answer his allegations, Archer's voice interrupted them over the intercom. "Ambassadors Soval and Shran to the bridge."

Soval stood. "We shall continue this conversation, T'Pol," he stated.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," she acknowledged.

As Soval left, T'Pol fought the illogical urge to see Commander Tucker. _It is out of character for the Commander Tucker to strike someone with such little provocation._ T'Pol told herself.

With only another moment's hesitation, T'Pol realized what she must do. _Captain Archer will assume my questioning to be a matter of personal wanting. Lieutenant Reed will understand my questioning as a matter of protocol._

Thoroughly convinced of her reasoning, T'Pol headed in the direction of the armory.


	19. Intrusions

Arriving in the armory, T'Pol noted that Lieutenant Reed was not present. Ensign O'Reilly, Malcolm's second in command, took notice of the Sub-Commander immediately. "Sub-Commander, is there something I can help you with?" the woman asked.

"I was looking for Lieutenant Reed," T'Pol responded. "However, he obviously is not here. Has his presence been required on the bridge?"

O'Reilly shot a quizzical glance in the direction of the Enterprise's first officer. "Um, yes, Sub-Commander, he was called to the bridge," she said slowly.

"I see," T'Pol responded. "Do you have any indication why?"

The surprise that flickered across the Ensign's face indicated to T'Pol that the persistent nature of her inquiry demonstrated a considerable lack in judgment.

Pushing that thought away, she told herself, _It is necessary. As first officer, I am responsible for any personnel conflicts._

In fact, according to Starfleet protocol, initial security investigations were to be undertaken by the first officer and the tactical officer. T'Pol suspected, however, that in the official report, Archer would cite her illness as reason enough to conduct the inquiry himself. _He is mistaken if he believes Commander Tucker has impaired my ability to think logically. I can and will continue to do my duty both as the ship's second in command and as a Vulcan,_ T'Pol vowed.

Realizing that the Ensign was unaware of her internal struggles, T'Pol informed the woman, "I have not been at my station yet this morning, Ensign. However, I require Lieutenant Reed's assistance in a personnel matter."

Looking considerably less confused, O'Reilly nodded. "Oh. Well, from what I could hear, something about another Vulcan ship appearing."

_A Vulcan ship?_ T'Pol wondered. _Why would another Vulcan ship be sent?_ Numerous reasons flooded T'Pol's brain, none of which made her very comfortable. Particularly when the appearance of a ship required the presence of Enterprise's tactical officer. "I see, Ensign. When Lieutenant Reed returns, will you tell him I require a moment of his time?"

"Aye, Sub-Commander. Where should I tell him to meet you?" O'Reilly questioned.

T'Pol knew she should go back to her quarters to meditate. "I shall be waiting for him outside the entrance to the brig," she told the Ensign. After all, T'Pol reasoned, it was entirely inappropriate to request Lieutenant Reed to meet her in her quarters.

* * *

On the bridge, Captain Archer marveled at his first officer's previous bout of clairvoyance. "The peace proceedings are unlikely to proceed smoothly," wasn't that what she had said?

_That's for damn sure,_ the decided as he listened patiently to the ranting of the Andorian on screen. "Two Vulcan ships for one Andorian ship? Truly, this must be considered an act of war!"

To his left, Soval responded, "I will remind you it was you that fired upon the second Vulcan vessel. If anyone has been guilty of an act of war, it is you."

"Commander Shran! Do you stand for this outrage?" the younger Andorian demanded. "Or shall I send for a fleet?"

"Quiet, Shrel," Shran commanded. "I will speak to the Captain of this other Vulcan ship before we make judgments. I will contact you after we have spoken to the Vulcan captain."

The Andorian scowled, then nodded. "Very well." Abruptly, the conversation ended as the transmission was cut.

Turning towards Archer, he looked at the man expectantly. Archer nodded.

"Hoshi, hail the smaller Vulcan ship," Archer instructed the Ensign.

"They're returning our hail, sir," Hoshi informed the Captain.

"On screen," Archer stated. Hoshi complied and the dark screen gave way to a cream colored bridge. Four Vulcans stood, with perfect Vulcan posture, on the bridge. Archer remembered two of them-V'Lar from the last time she had visited the Enterprise, and T'Pau. T'Pau he remembered from childhood. She had been an Ambassador then, and he remembered distinctly a meeting between she and his father. But V'Lar and T'Pau, stood in at the back of the bridge. Two male Vulcans Archer did not recognize remained in front of the bridge, one positioned at the helm and one standing behind him. The standing male Vulcan was obviously older than the rest of his crew, and from the commanding stance, Archer assumed him to be the Captain. Archer contemplated briefly whether he projected such leadership and confidence to the aliens they encountered. He did not have long to contemplate that thought, however, before Soval spoke.

"Captain Skon, I was under the impression you had retired? What reason do you have for being here? It has threatened the conference negotiations," Soval remarked. Although Archer had not seen Skon before, he certainly knew the name.

Skon did not reply immediately, but instead laced his hands behind his back and scanned the bridge quietly for a moment. Archer assumed he to be looking for T'Pol. _Has High Command found another reason to want to remove her from the ship?_ he wondered. He realized his mistake when Skon's gaze rested upon him. "Am I correct in presuming you to be Captain Jonathan Archer?" he inquired. The voice betrayed no apparent emotion and for all intents and purposes was monotone. It was, however, politely monotone. A complete contrast to the tone usually used by Soval or the one used by Captain Vanik.

"Yes, I am Captain Jonathan Archer of the Earth Starship Enterprise," Archer began, wondering why the Captain of the Vulcan ship chose to ignore Soval and speak to him first.

"I am Captain Skon, of the Vulcan ship T'Lar," the Vulcan informed him.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Skon," Archer told him, "But maybe you can tell us why you're here? It has caused...some disturbance," he finished.

"Yes, and that is unfortunate. However, I assure both you and Ambassador Shran," at that Skon turned to address the Andorian with a polite nod of his head, "that we were not sent by the Vulcan government with hostile intentions. Rather, we are responding to a medical emergency as transmitted by Captain Vanik's ship," Skon remarked.

"A medical emergency?" Archer questioned. He was interrupted by Shran.

"If you are experiencing a medical emergency, why haven't you transported to the Vulcan ship?" Shran demanded of Skon.

Skon looked at Archer to reply. "The Vulcan requiring medical attention is on your ship, Captain Archer," he replied. "We have come because of Ambassador Soval."

Soval again felt his temper flare, but pushed down the thought. Rationally, he could not argue with Skon. Not in front of Shran. To do so would possibly jeopardize the purpose of the conference. There would be no room for his stubbornness if the conference was to be successful.

Archer and Shran looked at Soval expectantly. "It is true, Captain," he replied. "The doctor of Vanik's ship believes me to be ill. Although I assure you I am not, I believe Captain Skon and his crew are here to assess the nature of my illness themselves."

"Alright," Archer agreed. "You are welcome to come aboard the Enterprise, Captain Skon, to check the Ambassador's health."

"Thank you, Captain. We will leave in a shuttlepod immediately...providing, of course, that the Andorian ship does not mean to inflict harm," Skon questioned.

Shran grunted grudgingly. "Fine, fine, Vulcan," he said irritably. "I will let my people know this display of Vulcan arrogance should not be taken as one of Vulcan hostility."

Skon quirked an eyebrow. "I am gratified for that," he replied before ending communication.

* * *

T'Pol had been waiting for Lieutenant Reed for 23.95 minutes outside the brig. The brig was someone isolated from the rest of the ship which was fortunate. _It would be unfortunate to have to linger here where I can be seen...it can easily been mistaken for loitering._

The solitude did help to ease the headache T'Pol had been experiencing since she had awoken in sickbay. Whereas before her headaches had ended shortly after being awoken, this time was different. Outwardly, T'Pol remained composed in the face of what that meant. Which did not necessarily equate with ease.

Not at all.

_There is little about this situation which is conductive to ease,_ T'Pol noted to herself. _The peace conference is in jeopardy, my own life is in peril, and Commander Tucker had managed to cause bodily harm to a well respected member of the Vulcan government. An action which most likely will result in his court martial._

T'Pol refused to speculate on why the last thought unsettled her the most.

She did permit herself to speculate on what her next course of action should be. Vulcans, when faced with death, returned to Vulcan if at all possible. It had been tradition amongst her people for all the years they had been in space. There were specific death rituals Vulcans valued immensely. _Such rituals cannot be performed by off worlders,_ T'Pol berated herself silently. Her symptoms worsened with each passing moment. _My death is inevitable and impending,_ T'Pol knew. She also knew that the same Vulcan ship that had brought Ambassador Soval to the Enterprise could carry her back to Vulcan.

_Why then do I exhibit such reluctance to do what I must?_

T'Pol shook the thought away. The peace conference would last at least two more days. Perhaps longer. When it was over, she would depart. In the meantime, she had one last duty to perform as first officer: to find out the truth regarding what had happened between Commander Tucker and Ambassador Soval.

With that in mind, T'Pol decided she would not wait for Lieutenant Reed. With no further hesitation, T'Pol turned and walked into the brig. Even her Vulcan training did not adequately prepare her for the sight that greeted her. There, on the floor of the Enterprise's brig, lay Commander Tucker, sweaty, aroused, naked, and enjoying himself rather profusely if the volume of his grunts were any indication.


	20. Cracks In The Cement

Captain Skon was even more impressive in person, Archer noted. Watching the Vulcan descend from the shuttlepod steps, the Captain of the Enterprise felt a slight shiver go down his back. _This must be how it felt for Cochrane and the others the first time they saw a Vulcan descend from the space craft in Montana._ Archer thought quietly to himself, momentarily forgetting his typical distrust of the species. As T'Pol was normally the only other Vulcan who could inspire him to do so, an unconsciously high complement was being paid to the Captain of the T'Lar. T'Pau's descent was equally regal, while V'Lar and the unidentified male Vulcan left less of an impression.

The trail of Vulcans made a line in front of Archer, beginning with Captain Skon. Holding his hand up in the traditional Vulcan greeting, Captain Skon spoke first to Archer, then to Soval. "Greetings, Captain, Ambassador Soval."

"Welcome to the Enterprise, Captain Skon, Ambassador V'Lar, Lady T'Pau...and, I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've met?" Archer inquired of the unnamed male.

Archer noted that the male looked to Captain Skon first, as though asking permission to speak. _Of course. Hasn't T'Pol told me repeatedly that Vulcans are sticklers for protocol?_ Archer chastised himself. He shouldn't have been surprised.

At Skon's nod of approval, the other male spoke. "I am Sumarek," he said simply. He offered no more information, and Archer decided that it was not prudent to pry. These Vulcans were simply here to check over Ambassador Soval and then be on their way. _For the sake of the peace conference,_ Archer reminded himself. _That phrase is beginning to feel awfully damn repetitive._

"Well, Captain Skon, it is unfortunate that you have traveled this distance. I am not ill," Soval informed the Vulcan Captain.

In reply, Skon turned his gaze away from Archer and walked two short steps until he was standing directly in front of Soval. "We come at Ventik's urging. You did not heed protocol," he replied simply.

"There was no time," Soval replied. "An imminent warp core breach caused sufficient...distraction."

"Yes the breach timing was...very intriguing. But what of the time before the near breach?" Skon remarked. "Ventik has told us of your unwillingness to comply with his urging."

_Gee, Soval being stubborn? That's not exactly a revelation,_ Archer thought. Wisely, he decided not to say anything and allowed the Vulcans to continue their communication.

"I was preparing for the conference," replied Soval. Considering he was coming from a species that valued non-emotions, Archer thought Soval sounded distinctly defensive. His continuation was likewise defensive. "I am certain Captain Archer can assure you the time of preparation was well spent, as the conference has been proceeding smoothly." Soval very nearly spat his next words, "Until your ship arrived, Captain."

Archer noted with a bit of sadistic pleasure that tone used by Soval towards Skon was the same condescending one the Vulcan Ambassador used with him. _Misery loves company, after all. I'm glad I'm not the only one that has to put up with him,_ Archer reflected.

While Archer usually ending up losing his temper, Skon remained his veneer of Vulcan calm as he replied to Soval. "Captain Archer is human. There are many matters of a Vulcan nature which he, being human, is unfamiliar with." Glancing back at Archer, Skon remarked, "No insult intended, Captain."

"None taken," Archer replied. "I can show you our sickbay, if you'd like."

"I fail to see why that is necessary. You can see for yourself I am non-afflicted," Soval stressed.

Skon's voice was eerily calm as he replied, "You will comply without argument, Ambassador, or you will be replaced and placed in custody for jeopardizing the success of the peace conference, thereby committing treason to the Vulcan government. The choice is up to you."

Archer realized suddenly that whatever the hell was going on was a bit more serious than he had originally thought. For whatever reason, he was glad he had convinced Shran to accompany Mayweather to the Mess Hall. This definitely was not a conversation for the Andorian's ears. Archer wasn't even certain it was a conversation for his ears. He supposed he should be thankful the Vulcans were allowing him to be part of their conversation, but he couldn't help but feel more than a bit frustrated. It was as thought he had come in during the middle of a movie and had no idea what the actual plot was.

"I will comply," Soval informed Skon. "After you find me to be well, I trust you and your crew will be on your way, Captain?"

"Indeed," was Skon's reply.

"Excuse me, but I don't suppose you can tell me what exactly is going on here?" Archer interrupted. He was certain he probably sounded rude, but he was not about to stand for people keeping secrets from him while on his ship. _I've had enough of that from my own crew,_ Archer noted, thinking of T'Pol and Trip and whatever relationship they actually had.

"We cannot, Captain," Skon replied, "It is a private Vulcan matter."

"With all due respect, Skon, it stopped being one the moment Soval brought it aboard my ship," Archer retorted, feeling increasingly perturbed.

"It has not been established that Soval has brought anything aboard your ship, Captain Archer," T'Pau informed him. "Perhaps you should withhold judgment until you are certain of the facts."

"I can't very well be certain of any of the facts, if you won't tell me what the facts are," Archer snapped.

"It is a private Vulcan matter. It is none of your concern," T'Pau reiterated.

"Everything that happens on my ship is my concern, T'Pau," Archer advised the Vulcan. "I want to know what's going on and I want to know now."

T'Pau started to reply, but she was interrupted by Skon. "Kroikah!" Archer had no idea what that word meant, other than it was directed at T'Pau, and silenced her comeback. As Skon turned to Archer, he steepled his fingers together in front of his chest and cocked his head thoughtfully before speaking. "A Captain's priority for his ship is one shared by both our people, Captain Archer. Your desire to know more of Soval's potential illness is understandable. Nonetheless, we have told you all that you can be privy to know...and as a result you know much more than any human before you and most likely, any that shall come after you. We can only ask that you accept that and the guarantee that your ship is in no danger. In fact, my crew and I are here to secure that outcome."

"If that changes—" Archer began.

"You shall be the first to know, Captain," Skon promised. "In the meantime, we shall require the services of your sickbay. Would you show us the way?"

Archer nodded. "Alright. Our physician, Doctor Phlox has worked on Vulcan. Will you be needing his help?" Archer asked.

"No," Skon replied. "T'Pau has previous medical training. Enough that shall suffice in determining the extent of the Ambassador's illness."

"Alright, if you'll follow me," Archer said turning to go.

As they left the landing bay, Archer and Skon led the way while Soval followed closely behind them, flanked by T'Pau, V'Lar, and Sumarek.

"Captain Archer, on Vulcan ships it is considered proper for the first officer to join the Captain in greeting guests," Skon remarked. "Is there a different protocol amongst human ships?"

"No," Archer sighed, knowing Skon was trying to inquire tactfully as to why T'Pol had not greeted them. In truth, Archer simply had not thought it wise to ask her to come, considering the extent of her illness. "We have the same protocol. However, Sub-Commander T'Pol was...indisposed," he finished lamely.

"Indeed?" Skon remarked.

"Indeed," Archer clarified.

* * *

T'Pol whirled around to face the guard posted outside Commander Tucker's cell. The woman had a decided smirk upon her face which immediately disappeared when she came face to face with the irate Sub-Commander. "Ensign," she said firmly, "are you supposed to be guarding Commander Tucker?"

"Yes, ma'am," the Ensign replied.

"Then perhaps you can explain exactly why instead you are allowing him to engage in conduct unbecoming of a senior officer?" T'Pol inquired.

"Well, ma'am, I'm just supposed to make sure he doesn't go anywhere. And considering the pleasure he is apparently getting, I'm pretty sure he doesn't have any plans on leaving," the Ensign replied, allowing the smirk to re-emerge upon her face.

A loud moan from Commander Tucker's cell confirmed the Ensign's belief. Forcing herself not to turn around, T'Pol instead focused on the irritating grin that emerged from the Ensign's smirk. "I doubt you are being that altruistic, Ensign. Perhaps instead you are deriving a type of sexual pleasure from Commander Tucker's predicament?"

The grin disappeared completely, followed by the smirk. "I-uh-no, no, Ma'am, absolutely not," the Ensign stuttered.

"I trust you were not. Because watching a senior officer in such a fashion would be against Starfleet protocol, Ensign," T'Pol reminded the woman.

"Y-yes, Ma'am. But, respectfully, Sub-Commander, what was I supposed to do? I asked Commander Tucker what he was doing, but he didn't listen to me, and proceeded to get undressed," the Ensign protested.

"You did not think to call reinforcements to help restrain Commander Tucker from engaging in this activity? Lieutenant Reed, perhaps?" T'Pol demanded.

"I-um, no, Ma'am," the Ensign replied.

T'Pol felt herself growing concerned. That was definitely not in character to Commander Tucker. _Is it not? The man does have a voracious sexual appetite,_ T'Pol noted, thinking of the various alien females that had been charmed by Commander Tucker. _Yet...his sexual proclivities have never interfered with his duties._ Admittedly, being in the brig was not the same as being on duty. Yet T'Pol refused to believe that this was normal behavior for him.

As Commander Tucker's sounds began to increase in frequency and volume, T'Pol noted the Ensign's gaze traveling past her shoulder to the cell behind them. Momentarily breaking the no-touch policy, T'Pol's hand guided the face back to eye level with her own. "I understand there are several female members of the crew that find Commander Tucker desirable, is that not a fact, Ensign?" T'Pol demanded.

"I suppose so, Sub-Commander," the Ensign replied, shifting uneasily.

"You are in the enviable position of many women, therefore, are you not, Ensign?" T'Pol pressed.

"I suppose so, Sub-Commander," came the reply, less steady this time than in its previous incarnation.

"You seem to be uncertain of a number of things, Ensign. Allow me to assist you in alleviating your confusion," T'Pol had to raise her voice a bit to be heard over the depraved noises emanating from Commander Tucker's cell. "You are hereby dismissed from guard duty. You will report back to the armory and consider this incident to be confidential. If anyone attains knowledge of this incident other than you, myself, the Captain or Commander Tucker, I shall hold you solely responsible. Is that clear, Ensign?"

While the Ensign was fairly certain the Vulcans did not believe in violence-in fact, they were known to be pacifists-she could have sworn she heard malice in the Sub-Commander's tone. It rather frightened the poor girl. T'Pol was, after all, quite intimidating to begin with. The addition of potential malice was downright terrifying. "Yes, ma'am," the Ensign replied. "Clear as crystal."

"Very well. You are dismissed."

The Ensign, embarrassed to be caught red-handed, yet relieved to be free to leave, hurriedly ducked out the door.

T'Pol took a deep breath and chanted the phrase of Surak in her head repeatedly before turning around. * Logic is the cement of our civilization with which we ascend from chaos, using reason as our guide.*

Convinced she had control of herself, T'Pol turned around and walked to the cell. Not daring to trust her disease ridden body, T'Pol focused exclusively on the prisoner's face. "Commander Tucker," she said, attempting to gain the man's attention. He paid her no heed. She tried again. "Commander Tucker, you must cease this activity at once. It is most unbecoming conduct of an officer," she reasoned with the man.

He did not pay attention.

Unfortunately, Trip's lack of compliance with T'Pol's orders tempted her gaze to wonder from his face. She reasoned that she needed to gain a fuller picture of the situation before being able to help Commander Tucker.

It was an error in judgment.

The sight of Trip's sweat dampened skin combined with his continual moans-T'Pol marveled inwardly at his stamina-was enough to trigger the reaction she had been able to forestall since entering in the brig. The predictable headache intensified. Doubling over, T'Pol fell to her knees, grasping her head with her hands. Her cry of anguish was enough to jerk Trip from his self inflicted enjoyment. "T'Pol?" he asked in confusion.

Realizing she was hurt, he slowly became more aware of the imperativeness of the situation. "T'Pol?" he repeated. Her only reply was to grasp her head and rock back and forth on her knees.

_No...cannot...lose...T'Pol._ Trip didn't understand what was going on. Only moments ago, he had been holding T'Pol. Touching her. Removing the Talaxian silk...At least, he had been certain of it. _Why is she...in pain?_ Trip wondered. "T'Pol, honey, please stop crying."

"Can't," T'Pol replied. Dear God, T'Pol was _crying._ Dimly, Trip registered the unnatural state of affairs that fell under. Shaking his head in a desperate attempt to clear his mind, Trip tried again.

"Yes, you can, darlin'. Please, for me-T'Pol, ya have to."

"Must put...clothes back on," T'Pol gasped. "You...and...sex...hurt. Hurts so much." The overwhelming agony was too much. 65 years of Vulcan meditation fell to the wayside as T'Pol sobbed. "Want...can't have."

Hurriedly, Trip struggled back into his clothes. The very feel of the soft fabric against his skin burned as surely as coals. _For T'Pol...have to...hurting . . her._ Trip's impaired mental ability registered. Zipping his uniform, Trip reassured T'Pol. "See, look, it's all better, T'Pol, I am dressed. Ya can stop cryin' now, Darlin'," he added.

"STOP IT!" T'Pol's exclamation surprised Trip and confused him.

"Stop what?" he demanded.

"Stop using terms of endearment...hurts so much," T'Pol gasped again.

"I-I'm sorry. I won't do it again," Trip promised. Privately, Trip was more than sorry. He was extraordinarily dismayed and disoriented. _I was touching her just a couple of moments ago and she was fine._ A feeling of dread swept over Trip as he realized the implications. *I must've hurt her when we...* "Oh, God, I'm sorry, T'Pol," he murmured.

"Shut up," she hissed.

He complied, and could do nothing but watch in horror as T'Pol laid there, cradling her head with her hands and rocking slowly back and forth on her knees.

T'Pol was trying desperately to regain control by repeating the Vulcan mantra that had brought her calm earlier. Instead, it twisted into another Surak saying: _Reach out to others courteously. Accept their reaching in the same way, with careful hands._ T'Pol's weakened mental state twisted that saying around to fit the morbid nature of the situation and only proved to make things worse. T'Pol was certain the end was near. If the teachings of Surak could not help her, then what hope did she have?

Having no other choice, Trip withdrew back to the corner of the cell. Bringing his knees to his chest, Trip curled his body up into a human ball and allowed the tears to come freely. He'd hurt T'Pol. The thought was the foremost upon Trip's mind, even more so than the burning felt by his body and groin.

* * *

Malcolm Reed hastened his walk to the brig. Having just come from the armory, Malcolm had ran into both Ensign O'Reilly and the Ensign that had been assigned to guard Trip's cell. Upon speaking to them, and hearing that the Sub-Commander wished to speak to him, Malcolm went directly to the brig. _Perhaps she has additional information on Commander Tucker,_ Malcolm thought optimistically. Such optimistic thoughts were dashed however, when Malcolm entered the brig and saw the sight that greeted him.

Sub-Commander T'Pol sat, with her head in her hands, rocking back and forth and sobbing. Commander Tucker sat in the corner of his cell, curled up into a ball, tears running down his face and murmuring something that distinctly sounded akin to "I'm sorry."

Malcolm glanced from Trip to T'Pol and back to Trip again. "Sub-Commander?" he asked tentatively. "Are you alright?"

There was no reply from T'Pol. Trip, however, spoke for the Vulcan. "No, she isn't, Malcolm. She needs to go to sickbay...I-I hurt her, Malcolm."

"How did you hurt her, exactly?" Malcolm demanded.

Trip shook his head. "Don't know. Hurt her bad, though. Won't stop cryin'. Take care of her, Mal. Please."

Dutifully, Malcolm knelt beside T'Pol. "Sub-Commander?" he said softly. "Let me assist you to sickbay."

In her mind, Malcolm's words only added to her discomfort and her irrational mind sought to strike at him. Fortunately, Malcolm remembered his Vulcan training and put it to good use in restraining T'Pol.

"Trip...no. Can't...hurting me," T'Pol whispered.

"Sub-Commander, I am not Trip. Further, I am only restraining you because you have to go to sickbay. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?" Malcolm asked, his voice as gentle as though he were talking to a child.

"Reach out to others courteously," was T'Pol's reply. _What the hell?_ Malcolm wondered. Not wanting to hurt T'Pol, but knowing something was wrong, Malcolm slowly reached his hands under T'Pol's legs and back, lifting her easily. He was afraid he'd have to try to restrain her again, but all he received in response to his actions was, "Accept their reaching in the same way."

_Curiouser and curiouser,_ Malcolm thought to himself as he headed towards the exit. Pausing momentarily, he called over his shoulder, "I'm taking her to sickbay, Commander. She'll be alright."

"Thank ya, Malcolm. Don't let anyone else hurt her," Trip whispered softly. With a feeling of dread, Malcolm knew he would have to come back and interrogate his friend to determine how exactly he had hurt T'Pol. But that would have to wait.

As they left the brig, T'Pol whispered softly, "With careful, careful hands."


	21. Reaching Out To Others

Malcolm sighed, pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed furiously. Having returned from a very crowded, and very animated sickbay, he was attempting to determine the exact cause of Sub-Commander T'Pol's illness. His efforts, however, were useless. The same man who only moments before had been full of apologies and confessing to "hurting" the Vulcan now refused to say anything. Instead, he sat, curled impassively in the corner of his cell, refusing to budge-either physically or verbally.

"Commander Tucker," Malcolm said forcefully. "What happened between you and Sub-Commander T'Pol?" It was the fifth time he had asked the same question in the span of less than ten minutes, and Malcolm fully did not expect a reply. Nonetheless, the armory officer stood at full attention with hands clasped tightly behind his back as he attempted to glare down at his friend. It was the patented Stuart Reed—"I'm disappointed in you, but I don't know why yet, so you have to tell me look." Malcolm had seen it enough in his childhood that his imitation was nearly perfect. Having never failed his father, Malcolm figured, as a last resort, it would work well in this situation.

Stuart Reed, however, had never had a child quite as stubborn as Commander Tucker.

"Commander—"

"Go away, Mal." The voice that said it was an angry one, and it took Malcolm by surprised. He was certain he had never heard such utter hatred in the Commander's tone. Definitely not any that could be interpreted as directly towards him. Concern-yes; Irritation-check; Frustration-definitely. But hatred? Never.

It was enough to break Malcolm's Stuart Reed impression. A bit shaken, Malcolm tried again. "Trip—"

"I SAID TO GO AWAY, LIEUTENANT REED!" Trip snapped, jumping to his feet. Angrily, he turned towards the wall and banged his fists loudly

"I will not, Commander Tucker. Not until you tell me what happened," Malcolm informed the other man. Malcolm braced himself for another impact, that he was certain was coming. He was utterly surprised, therefore, when Trip did nothing but slump in his cell.

"I don't know, Malcolm. I just don't know," Trip murmured in defeat.

Feeling more and more helpless by the moment, Malcolm resisted the urge to sigh. "If you don't know that you hurt her, Trip, then how do you know that you hurt her? The two of you were separated."

Trip was shaking his head. "She was in here..."

"The Sub-Commander entered your cell?" Malcolm asked incredulously. _Why didn't Ensign Connelly tell me that?_ he wondered. He was going to have a nice long chat with her about protocol and withholding information from a senior officer.

"Can't tell ya...It's private," Trip murmured.

"Commander Tucker," Malcolm began again, but his voiced died in his throat as Trip turned so that his back was facing Malcolm.

"Fine," Malcolm stated irritably. "I had hoped you would confess to your crime willingly. However, since you are unwilling, I am certain the security cameras will provide ample evidence of your offense."

"No!" Trip was on his feet again. "Ya can't watch!"

Ignoring Trip's orders, Malcolm turned to face the crewman stationed outside the cell. "Crewman Yamamoto, I need you to transfer the security video to my quarters for these time periods," he said, handing the man a PADD with the corresponding times. _Whatever occurred with Trip and the Sub-Commander T'Pol should not be viewed in public,_ Malcolm noted to himself. _Besides, if it is as bad as Trip is implying...I have a good idea that I'll need to be sitting down as I take in the information._

"Aye, sir," Yamamoto replied.

"And crewman, I want that information to be treated with the strictest of confidence. Meaning no one, not even yourself, is to see the contents until I view them. Is that clear, crewman?"

"Yes, sir," Yamamoto replied quickly.

"Good. I'll expect the information in no less than one hour."

"Aye, Lieutenant," the man agreed, privately wondering how fast exactly the lieutenant thought he could work.

"Have a good night. Oh, and Crewman-make certain no one enters Commander Tucker's cell. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Yamamoto replied, noting cheerfully to himself that Ensign Connelly was truly in trouble. It was not wise to tick off the Enterprise's tactical officer. In fact, it was the prospect of repercussions alone that kept Crewman Yamamoto from wavering his gaze from Lieutenant Reed during the preceding conversation. Commander Tucker's rather loud protests of "Ya can't watch, ya disloyal British bastard," had been rather distracting after all.

* * *

In sickbay, there were similarly distracting occurrences taking place. To allow both of his patients their due privacy, Phlox had banished Soval, T'Pau, and Sumarek to his office for the desired physical while placing T'Pol on the furthest bio-bed. T'Pol had been given an ample amount of sedative, yet remained awake and her brain activity still remained in distress. Both Phlox and Cutler worked fervently to try to alleviate the increased activity while Skon, Archer, and V'Lar stood off to the side, watching T'Pol's situation with fascination, horror, and concern, respectively.

Phlox found their continued presence, along with Archer and V'Lar's continual questions of "What's going on, Doctor?" and "Why is T'Pol under duress?" quite annoying. Their concerns were understandable, however their vocalizations combined with T'Pol's chants of "Reach out to others as they would reach out to you with careful, careful hands" that she had been repeating steadily since her arrival in sickbay fifteen minutes ago were bothersome to a physician trying to do his work. _Of all the species I have encountered, I am certain none have been as stubborn as Vulcan or human,_ Phlox determined.

Still, they remained and Phlox forced himself not to lose his temper. Fortunately, Skon had the good grace to remain quiet. Nonetheless, his watchful gaze was just as bothersome to the Denobulan as the Captain and Ambassador's questions. The physician ignored it, however, as he worked frantically to calm the bodily processes of his patient. As the physician achieved success, he was rewarded with a pained sigh coming from the Vulcan's mouth. One last chanting of her mantra was issued before T'Pol drifted into unconsciousness.

Three sets of eyes looked at him expectedly as Phlox turned tiredly away from the Sub-Commander. Archer's eyes looked frightened and hinged with guilt; V'Lar's eyes were concerned and hinged with sorrow; Skon's eyes were harder to read but definitely hinged with compassion.

"T'Pol's illness has increased," Phlox informed the group in front of him. "Not knowing what exactly caused the initial illness, I can only speculate that Commander Tucker has invoked similar disturbances as he has in the past."

"This has happened previously?" Skon inquired.

"T'Pol is not going anywhere until I am certain that she isn't going to recover," Archer interjected. "So maybe it would be better if you and Ambassador V'Lar joined your friends interrogating Soval." _Hmm...Definite possessiveness,_ Phlox noted. _Humans have a strange capacity to feel possession for those things they do not own._

"That decision lies with neither you nor I, Captain Archer," Skon replied.

"Right," Archer retorted. "I suppose you think it lies with the Vulcan High Command."

"No. The decision lies entirely with Sub-Commander T'Pol," Skon replied simply.

_What is the human expression? You could have heard a needle drop? Or is it a penny?_ Phlox pondered. Whichever object humans used in the rhetorical example, the metaphor could aptly be used, as silence definitely overtook the sickbay.

The silence was broken as T'Pau and Sumarek exited Phlox's office, with Soval in tow. "Captain Skon, Ambassador V'Lar," Sumarek stated. "We will be returning Ambassador Soval to our ship."

"In the middle of the treaty conference?" Archer questioned. "Can't it wait until—"

"No, Captain, it cannot. I am afraid Ambassador Soval is in no condition to continue to participate in the conference," T'Pau told the Captain. "Ambassador V'Lar will be taking his place."

"Then Soval is...Infected?" Skon questioned.

Phlox noted that T'Pau furrowed her eyebrows at him. _Ah, she must not appreciate the Captain's apparent breach in protocol,_ Phlox deduced.

"We have found evidence of his illness remaining," T'Pau stated simply.

Sumarek provided them with a bit more detail. "It has apparently run its course, Captain. This means that the Ambassador would have had to have had the illness before departing Vulcan."

Skon turned to look at Soval. "Do you admit this, Soval?"

Soval straightened his shoulders. "There would be no logic in denying what you know to be true."

"Then you willingly endangered a Vulcan peace treaty. There will be serious repercussions for your act, Soval. I trust Sumarek has informed you of your prisoner rights?" Skon asked.

"Yes," came the one worded reply from Soval.

"Very well. T'Pau, after you accompany Sumarek and Soval to the T'Lar, I need you to meet me here, in sickbay. The Sub-Commander's illness has left Doctor Phlox at somewhat of a loss, I believe." With that, Skon turned to look questionly at the doctor.

"Yes, indeed," Phlox agreed. "I have checked for several possible Vulcan illnesses. However, none of them fit."

"Vulcan illnesses?" T'Pau asked. "What type of Vulcan illnesses?"

"All the type of Vulcan illnesses that could possibly affect her," Phlox replied. "Including what you were checking Soval for, I believe."

"T'Pol has told you of such private Vulcan matters?" Soval demanded. "This is further proof that she is unfit to remain on this ship. The humans have obviously been—"

"Soval, you will cease talking now," Skon replied. "Doctor Phlox is T'Pol's physician. I am certain T'Pol saw the logic in taking all steps to prevent the end of her own mortality. Self preservation is logical. T'Pau, with your medical training, perhaps you can assist the Doctor in arriving at a diagnosis for the Sub-Commander when you return."

T'Pau nodded shortly and she and Sumarek motioned for Soval to follow them. When they had left, Archer, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since Soval's retort had silenced him, turned to face the Vulcan Captain. "Soval had an illness?" he questioned. "Is it contagious?"

Skon looked as amused as a Vulcan ever looks. "No, Captain. The illness is uniquely Vulcan. No human member of your crew could obtain the disease from him."

Satisfied, Archer nodded and turned to V'Lar. "Ambassador, if you'll come with me, I believe we need to speak with Ambassador Shran."

V'Lar nodded. Before they left, Archer turned back to Skon. "Captain Skon...I apologize for my hastiness earlier. It was uncalled for."

Skon shook his head. "In the words of Surak, 'There is no offense where no offense is taken.'"

Archer grinned. "Who was Surak? Some type of Vulcan philosopher? "

Skon inclined his head. "Surak was indeed a Vulcan philosopher. He provided the roots of logic from whence our society is based upon today."

"A Vulcan equivalent of Socrates or Plato, then?" Archer mused.

"Perhaps. Although, to be more precise, an equivalent of a combination between Socrates and Ghandi," Skon remarked.

Archer's face filled with surprise. "You're aware of Earth philosophers?" he inquired. "And peace movements?"

"Yes. I find the history of other cultures very fascinating. Including Earth. It is intriguing how similar some historical events of diametrically different species can be strikingly similar. Yet the differences within each event provide evidence of the complex differences of the different species," Skon replied.

Archer smiled. "Perhaps before you leave the Enterprise, we can have more time to discuss history and philosophy of our two planets."

"I shall anticipate such an event," Skon replied.

"Okay then. I...I have to go see to the conference," Archer said quietly. "But take good care of her, Doctor, Captain Skon."

Skon watched the human leave with Ambassador V'Lar before turning to look at the Doctor. "I do not understand the Captain's sentiment, Doctor. Does he truly believe we would take anything less than efficient care for an ill crewmember?" Phlox chuckled. "A human eccentricity, Captain Skon. I truly do not understand it myself."


	22. Resolutions

In sickbay, T'Pol opened her eyes to discover two Vulcans she recognized standing on either side of her biobed.

"T'Pol, it is pleasant to see you awake," Captain Skon greeted her. T'Pau said nothing to contradict or agree with Skon's sentiments.

Forcing herself into a sitting position, T'Pol nodded in return. "It is most agreeable to see you again, Captain."

"Yes, it has been some time since we last spoke," Skon said, not unkindly.

"Ambassador Soval is aboard the vessel. Perhaps the reunion can be more complete," T'Pol suggested. _Do I display humor in front of a mentor?_ T'Pol wondered.

"Actually, T'Pol, Ambassador Soval has been removed from the vessel," Skon informed her.

"Removed? Why is that?" T'Pol questioned.

Skon and T'Pau exchanged a look. "Did the Captain not brief his second in command before greeting visitors?" T'Pau inquired.

"I have been off duty for thirty point seven hours," T'Pol said truthfully. Feeling the scrutiny of Skon's gaze, T'Pol fought off a sigh with difficulty that would have been foreign to her less than a month ago. _My illness increases my ability to feel ashamed at having let my former Captain down,_ she noted.

"Why have you been relieved of duty, Sub-Commander?" Skon asked.

"My illness has increased in intensity. Captain Archer wishes for me to remain off duty to allow time to heal." She tilted her head to look directly at Captain Skon. "It is most illogical of him, as the cause of my illness is unknown and thus, unlikely to be cured."

"My father always claimed that humans' ability to care, while admirable, often led them to illogical and unwise decisions," Skon remarked. "Perhaps that is true in Captain Archer's case."

"He does appear to be guided exclusively by emotions," T'Pau remarked. "An unwise choice for a Captain."

"An appropriate one for a human Captain," T'Pol remarked, surprising herself. T'Pau raised an eyebrow in response, but said nothing. "Why have you come aboard, Captain? I assume you were in command of the second Vulcan vessel?"

"Yes, the T'Lar. We came at the urging of Doctor Ventik. Accordingly, Ambassador Soval was refusing to comply with his required physical. Such irrational behavior lead Ventik to believe it to be Soval's time of pon far."

Skon's words triggered an unwanted memory within T'Pol.

* * *

"T'Pol?"

"Yes, doctor?"

"If it had been pon frell, I doubt you would have needed to return to Vulcan for a mate."

"In that event, I would have died as well, Doctor. Perhaps the two situations are not as different as we believe."

* * *

"—has apparently purged his illness," T'Pau continued.

"Do you plan on finding the female with whom he has purged his illness?" T'Pol inquired.

"We do not have the authority to do so," T'Pau responded. "Because of the timing of Soval's purge, the female would most certainly have been human."

"Vulcan law has no jurisdiction upon humans," Skon agreed. "Therefore, unless Soval's partner was unwilling, her intimate contact with Ambassador Soval is none of our concern."

"It is most intriguing. The idea of a human and a Vulcan mating," T'Pau remarked.

"It would not be a new occurrence, T'Pau," Skon admonished.

"No. Humans and Vulcans have co-existed for nearly a century. There have been ample opportunities for such occurrences," T'Pol added. She did not provide her own personal experience as proof of such occurrences.

T'Pau agreed. "True. However, given the human propensity to hold a grudge as they seem to do with us regarding warp flight, I had believed humans would be unwilling to mate with a member of our species."

"My father often remarked that the human propensity for desiring sex was remarkable," Skon offered.

"It is," T'Pol supplied. "In fact, humans frequently use first contacts as opportunities to engage in sexual relationships with alien species."

"Entirely inappropriate," T'Pau admonished.

"I had been led to believe that humans place a great deal of importance upon emotions when engaging in sexual intercourse," Skon questioned.

"I too had heard that rumor," T'Pau interjected. "It is yet another example of how humans and Vulcans differ from each other. Whereas Vulcans value the procreative properties of intercourse, humans embrace the emotional results."

"Yet both species value the importance of monogamy and longevity in relationships," Skon provided.

"This is occasionally true," T'Pol agreed. "However, they also value discrete sexual encounters with no emotional attachments other than the momentarily and fleeting pleasure. Overall, they value the sensation of pleasure the most in their sexual dealings." Despite herself, an image of Commander Tucker forced itself into her head and she was unable to prevent a gasp of pain from escaping her lips.

Skon and T'Pau again exchanged a look. "How long have you been ill, Sub-Commander?" T'Pau asked.

"I have been displaying symptoms for one week, one day, twelve hours, thirty six minutes and twenty four point five seconds," T'Pol replied.

"Yet, your brain scan shows sufficiently longer term damage," T'Pau stated.

"Yes," T'Pol replied simply.

"The doctor believes the symptoms can be traced to your melding," Skon provided.

"Doctor Phlox relayed that information to you?" T'Pol asked, allowing a slight edge into her voice. Realizing its inappropriateness to the situation, T'Pol ached for the opportunity to meditate.

"Yes. T'Pau's medical training could be of benefit," Skon assured her.

"Doctor Phlox has served on Vulcan and is an accomplished physician. Lady T'Pau has not practiced medicine in thirty two years," T'Pol pointed out. "It is unlikely that your medical knowledge will be more advanced than that of Doctor Phlox."

"Perhaps," T'Pau agreed. "Doctor Phlox however is not as familiar with melding practices as I am."

"Why is that?" T'Pol questioned.

Skon and T'Pau exchanged looks one last time. "Because we are melders as well, T'Pol," Skon answered. Having reviewed T'Pol's testimony at her trial, Skon and T'Pau had decided that she could be trusted with their secret. She would not react in the same fashion as the majority of their contemporaries would.

Their hypothesis proved correct, as T'Pol took their information in stride. "I see. Is Doctor Phlox correct? Is there another illness associated with melding other than the Pa'naar Syndrome?" she asked.

"Possibly. In order to determine whether you have such an illness, we need to inquire in more detail of your meld," Skon replied.

It was, T'Pol knew, Skon's way of asking permission to proceed. "Very well," was the response she gave him. "You may proceed."

"According to the testimony of both Yuris and yourself, your meld was forced upon you. Is this true?" T'Pau asked.

"Yes."

"What type of emotions did you experience through the meld?" Skon inquired. T'Pol looked at him sharply. Vulcans did not typically admit to the ability to experience emotions. As though he knew what she was thinking, Skon remarked, "Melding is a very intimate, and very emotional experience, T'Pol. Surely it invoked an emotional response. If you would like us to help you, you must share the details of your meld with us."

Closing her eyes, T'Pol recalled the jazz club and the sexual situations she had been placed in. She recalled the emotional response her body had given into due to the meld and lack of meditation. Regretfully, she shared with Skon and T'Pau the details, trying not to focus on the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her as she spoke.

"As it was forced upon you, did you have the opportunity to reciprocate the meld?" T'Pau continued.

"Reciprocate?" T'Pol asked. "I do not understand."

"There are three distinctly different types of melds, T'Pol," Skon informed her. "There is a basic meld in which anyone may share be they the simplest of acquaintances. That bond is less emotional and infinitely more safe."

T'Pau continued for him. "There is also a meld meant to obtain information, in which both parties are potentially in peril. This meld can be quite useful in the justice department which is why there is always at least one skilled melder employed at the department at all times."

"The third kind is the bond shared by mates. It is more intimate, and can be quite dangerous. In any instance, the bond is sexual in nature and very...Emotional," Skon finished.

"Indeed. It frequently involves feelings of desire, possession, and sexual attraction," T'Pau agreed.

"Then that is the type of meld Tolaris initiated," T'Pol stated. There was no doubt in her voice.

"You said initiated. You did not return the meld?" T'Pau questioned.

"No, I could not. I am incapable of performing a meld."

"That is a myth," T'Pau told the science officer. "All Vulcans possess the ability to perform a meld. Our ancestors did and that was not long enough ago for evolution to have changed a simple biological trait."

"That is...Impossible. It goes against Surak's teachings to lie...Yet, that is exactly what the Vulcan government would have been doing if they had supported the efforts to suppress the Melding instinct. We are taught all our lives that melding is done by only a small portion of the Vulcan population," T'Pol protested.

"T'Pol. You are aware that lying can in some instances be deemed a logical course of action. Melders are believed to be dangerous. Tolaris and others have proved this to be a possible truth. Unfortunately, there has been no proof of the benefits of melding on the same scale," Skon informed her.

Not wanting to dwell upon the actions of her planet, T'Pol asked quietly, "Is there a cure?"

"Your brain has been sent signals that it needs to bond, to be telepathically linked with a mate. You simply need to select a mate, and complete a bond with him by melding with him," Skon informed her.

"The only cure then, would require me to meld with another and thereby spread the Pa'naar Syndrome to him as well?" T'Pol asked, aghast.

She was rewarded with a silent nod of Skon's head.

"I thank you both," she said simply. She allowed herself a fleeting moment of pleasure as she reflected that her voice betrayed none of the emotion she felt. "However, as that cure is an unacceptable one, I must ask permission to accompany you back to Vulcan."

"Of course. We will be departing within the hour, as Ambassador V'Lar will return with Captain Vanik and Ambassador Soval must be taken back to the planet immediately for processing," Skon replied.

"Thank you, Captain. That will provide me ample time to gather my personal items and bid Captain Archer and the crew goodbye," T'Pol stated.

* * *

In his quarters, Malcolm sat working on expansions to the force field technology he had originally stabilized. The hull plating technology was inefficient, in Malcolm's estimate, and he surmised that if he could somehow expand the force field to encompass the hull of the ship, it would provide a better type of shielding than that currently in place. A quick glance at the chronometer in the midst of a calculation informed Malcolm that Yamamoto had exactly 30 minutes to provide the security tape Malcolm had requested. With a sigh, Malcolm realized that his plan to work on the calculations as a type of distraction while he waited was not working as well as he had anticipated. Try as he might to focus on the shields, Malcolm found himself distracted by the enormity of the Trip situation. _No, not Trip. Commander Tucker's situation,_ Malcolm chastised himself firmly.

Malcolm frowned in irritation at the sound of his door chime. It wouldn't be Travis, Malcolm knew. The armory officer had asked the helmsman to arrange his workout at 1900 hours, as to not be in the room when Malcolm needed to review the security tape. Whoever it was, Malcolm hoped they didn't have plans to stay for a prolonged period of time.

"Enter," he called. His irritation disappeared when the doors opened to reveal Hoshi Sato. Hoshi Sato and a tray of food to be precise.

"Good evening, Malcolm," Hoshi greeted cheerfully.

"Good evening, Hoshi," Malcolm replied warmly, eying the food suspiciously. "What brings you here?"

"Well, you didn't join the Captain and myself for dinner, so I figured you had to be getting hungry, so I brought you some food," Hoshi said, sitting the tray down in front of him.

"That wasn't necessary, Hoshi. I was planning on —"

"Planning on getting some as soon as you were finished here, right?" Hoshi asked, with a role of her eyes. When Malcolm nodded, Hoshi continued, "Well, Chef made pineapple upside down cake for dessert. I thought you might like some and it was disappearing pretty quickly."

Malcolm glanced at his tray, and sure enough, there sat an ample portion of said desert, alongside Chef's trusty pot roast. "Thank you, Hoshi. That was very kind of you," he whispered softly. "But I sincerely hope you were careful in bringing it here." At Hoshi's quizzical glance, he continued, "It...It would have seemed highly inappropriate for an Ensign to be seen carrying food to a Lieutenant's quarters."

Hoshi's mouth tightened. "I apologize for the breach in protocol, Lieutenant," she said coolly before spinning on her heels and walking out the door.

Malcolm winced. _Bloody hell, that didn't go very well, did it?_ Malcolm was certain that his life would be a lot easier if people on the Enterprise had any idea how to behave appropriately. _If they did, I wouldn't have to reject the advances of a perfectly desirable woman and Commander Tucker wouldn't have slugged an Ambassador over a woman he views as desirable. Bloody civilians is what they all are._

A chirp from the computer terminal on his desk interrupted Malcolm's private railings against the crew. Cradling his cake preciously in his hands, Malcolm slid off his bed and walked over to the terminal. He discovered with delight that Yamamoto had managed to send him the security tape a full twenty minutes early. Noting to give the highest commendation to the crewman on his next batch of evaluations, Malcolm opened the video as he took a large bite of his cake.

The scene began innocently enough. Ensign Connelly was standing at attention outside Commander Tucker's cell, as she had been positioned. Commander Tucker paced in his cell, complaining about the temperature in the cell being too warm. Malcolm noted the oddness of that, as the cell was kept at a constant 77 degrees Farenheight. Being from Florida, Commander Tucker was certainly used to much, much warmer weather. Still, Commander Tucker must have been as overheated, as he began to remove his clothing.

As the scenes unfolded before him, Malcolm had to resist the urge several times to turn the terminal off and walk away in disgust. To his utter surprise, Commander Tucker was calling out T'Pol's name in enjoyment, paying no attention to Ensign Connelly. _Poor bastard. He cares so much for her. Enough to throw away his entire career...Yet, she's incapable of returning it. Poor, poor bastard._ He was certain that the particularly attentive Ensign was going to be doing the most disdainful task he could think of. That depended on his brain regaining the capacity to think, however. Malcolm wasn't so sure that was going to happen. His opinion of the Ensign's impending fate did not change even after T'Pol entered, although he did appreciate the professional manner in which she handled her anger. _Anger?_ Malcolm questioned himself. No, there was no doubt about it. The Sub-Commander had definitely been angry. _Perhaps Commander Tucker's attraction was not one-sided after all,_ Malcolm decided. The thought unreasonably made him happy. The happiness disappeared as he watched T'Pol be overcome with agony.

"You...Sex...Hurt so much," T'Pol managed to gasp out as she pleaded with Commander Tucker to re-clothe himself. Feeling more than slightly guilty at his voyeuristic activities, Malcolm contemplated the meaning of that near-sentence. Was T'Pol implying that she and Commander Tucker...? But that didn't make any sense. T'Pol was obviously referring to the current scenario. And they definitely were not having sex. _Regardless of what Commander Tucker may have been thinking before she came in, they continue to be separated,_ Malcolm noted.

As it ended, Malcolm came to the realization that Commander Tucker's confession of hurting the Sub-Commander had not been entirely true. Although Commander Tucker's actions had apparently been the catalyst for her emotional attack, Commander Tucker and T'Pol had remained separated. In fact, Malcolm realized, Commander Tucker had done everything in his power to stop her discomfort, to no avail.

_Yet, Commander Tucker had insisted to me only moments ago that he had hurt T'Pol._ Moreover, Commander Tucker had insisted that T'Pol had entered his cell. That event simply hadn't happened. Frowning, Malcolm rewound the tape to the moment when T'Pol came in and watched it again, focusing on Commander Tucker's facial expressions. Pushing down his guilt, Malcolm looked for any sign that would help him to understand Commander Tucker's confusion. Had he simply been deluding himself by confusing reality with fantasy? No, that didn't make any sense either.

Malcolm watched in helpless agony for his friend as the Commander retreated back to his cell. Pushing a couple of buttons on his computer terminal, Malcolm magnified Commander Tucker's face and played the video in slow motion, desperately searching for clues. _Something just isn't right about this situation. The 'facts' are not adding up,_ Malcolm thought in frustration. The lieutenant found what he was looking for as the enhanced video made clear the convulsions that overtook Commander Tucker's facial muscles and the spasms that claimed his hands.

"She was in here"...spasms...convulsions... _I had attributed the redness of his skin and deep breathing to be correlated to the nature of his activities in the cell...But that doesn't explain his confusion, or the near-seizures. Commander Tucker is sick._

The thought gave Malcolm a great rush of hope. If Commander Tucker was sick, then Trip was quite possibly innocent. The illness was obviously impairing his ability to think rationally- _The Trip I know would never masturbate in the brig-especially not with a lady present. Conversely, he would never slug an Ambassador or be insubordinate to the Captain. He's sick-why didn't any of us see it sooner?_ With those thoughts in mind, Malcolm rose and went to the comm unit. "Reed to Captain Archer."

There as a momentary pause. "Archer here. What is it, Lieutenant?"

The happiness could nearly be heard as Malcolm responded, "I need to see you immediately in my quarters, Captain. It concerns Commander Tucker."

Malcolm heard a gasp of breath on the other end of the comm unit followed by Archer's cursing. "I'll be there momentarily, Lieutenant," he snapped before turning the unit off.

* * *

In his quarters, Archer ran to T'Pol's side as she clutched her head. "I thought the very sound of his name didn't do you any harm, Sub-Commander?" he asked softly.

"My symptoms have increased," she replied. "Which is why I am leaving."

Archer sighed. "We'll miss you, you know that. Especially...well, especially myself and the chief engineer."

T'Pol closed her eyes. "He is ill, Captain. I do not know how, but you must have the Doctor examine him. He is behaving...Irrationally. Even for him."

"I'll have Phlox look into it," Archer promised.

"Thank you," she said and Archer noted sadly that it was the first time-and the last time-she had said the phrase. "I must go. Captain Skon and Lady T'Pau are awaiting me in the Landing Bay."

"I'll walk with you," Archer suggested.

"Please, Captain, I would rather go alone." As Archer started to protest, T'Pol explained, "I shall be able to control my emotions with greater ease if I am not in the company of a human."

Archer nodded reluctantly. "Alright."

"It has been a pleasurable experience having served with you, Captain Archer." T'Pol extended her hand in the handshake she had refused to give only two years ago.

In reply, Archer raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, T'Pol."

To prevent herself from giving in to the emotions which threatened to overtake her at the last gesture, T'Pol nodded and left quickly, heading for the landing bay.


	23. Suggestions

Archer stood on the bridge of the Enterprise pensively. The Vulcan shuttlepod had arrived back at the T'Lar without incident and the Vulcan ship was getting ready to leave. Archer had not yet seen Lieutenant Reed concerning Commander Tucker, deeming T'Pol's departure more immediately demanding.

Captain Skon's face appeared on the screen in front of him, breaking Archer's reverie. "Captain Archer, I wish to thank you for your assistance in the capture of Ambassador Soval. You have done planet Vulcan a great service this day."

Archer briefly wondered if he was the first human a Vulcan had thanked. He was relatively certain he was the first human to be praised for servicing planet Vulcan. Then he considered the Vulcan who had his full attention at the moment and contemplated that perhaps he was wrong in his assessment.

"I'm glad I could be of assistance, Captain Skon. I'm sorry you're in such a hurry to return- I was looking forward to our discussions of philosophy and history," Archer commented, referencing the revealing conversation the pair had shared in sickbay.

"As was I, Captain. However, when I made that statement, I was...unaware of the urgency of Soval's illness," Skon remarked. The statement did not fool Archer for a moment. Something else had occurred between Skon and T'Pol in sickbay that had forced Skon to return to the planet sooner than necessary. Archer was relieved to know that T'Pol would be in such caring hands.

"I see. Take good care of her, Captain. Please let her know that if she should recover, she is more than welcome to return to our ship," Archer implored.

Skon was silent for a moment. In truth, he wondered if T'Pol had bothered to tell these humans the nature of her illness. It seemed illogical to let them believe she had any chance of healing, when she was refusing to partake in the one treatment that could heal her. Still, it was not his decision to make. "I shall, Captain. Live long and prosper."

"Good bye, Captain Skon." As the transmission was cut, Archer shook his head and hoped the conversation with Lieutenant Reed had a happier ending than T'Pol had.

* * *

"You have not eaten." The statement from Skon contained the slightly reproachful sound an adult Vulcan gives to their child.

"No, I have not," T'Pol replied.

"You require nourishment, Sub-Commander. Particularly in your condition."

"Food will not cure my illness."

Skon tilted his head slightly. "No, but a lack of food shall increase its effects."

"I have had to remind the humans on several occassions that a Vulcan can survive prolonged periods without nourishment. I should not have to remind you of the same." T'Pol did not manage to hide the irritation in her voice.

"That is true of Vulcans who are healthy. You are not," Skon replied easily.

T'Pol fought down the urge to sigh, which took considerable more strength than it should have. The man seemed desperate to irritate her today. _Much like Commander Tucker,_ she noted. The thought brought the predictable pain that she was beginning to associate with the engineer.

"I am fine," she replied in answer to Skon's questioning her health status. T'Pol questioned if that statement would ever be truthful again.

"I have been contemplating your illness," Skon informed the Vulcan as she gave in to his protests and began consumption of the plomeek soup.

"Indeed?"

"Yes. Your resistance to bond with a Vulcan because of the Pa'nar Syndrome is understandable."

"It is logical," T'Pol responded stoically.

"Perhaps," Skon agreed. His response earned him an accusing eyebrow lift from T'Pol. He fought down the urge to chuckle. It had been so long since he had served with his former protege that he had forgotten her ability to silence an enemy with only a glance. It was a trait that had served her well in her position at the Defense Ministry. Skon did not wish to relive that memory-recommending T'Pol for the post had resulted in great emotional pain for his former science officer. It wasn't a concept he wished to dwell upon.

"Yes, perhaps," Skon continued. "Although surely there are other Vulcans with Pa'nar Syndrome with whom you could bond."

"That is unacceptable," T'Pol responded.

"Why is that? True, your marriage would not be one of mutual affection, but you would share a mutual connection. That is more than most Vulcan couples share in the marriages arranged by their parents," Skon reminded her. *"Boy. Where I come from arranged marriages went out with slavery."* Closing her eyes to force away the memory from her conversation with Commander Tucker, T'Pol replied, "Affection is irrelevant."

Again, an unwanted and unbidden memory surfaced. *"No, it's not, it's very relevant. Do you want to go back and marry this guy spend a year with him, ten years, a hundred years, or do you want to stay on Enterprise?"*

"What then is the basis of your decision? Neither affection nor logic are figuring into your decision," Skon chastised.

_You could not be more wrong. Both are essential to my choice._ "I would do my family shame by marrying someone with Pa'nar Syndrome. The only choices would be known to be Melders-something viewed as a disgrace in our culture," T'Pol said forcefully.

"I am aware of our society's stigma on Melders," Skon replied.

T'Pol regarded Skon with barely contained irritation. "I have an obligation to my family, to my heritage to not disappoint them. It takes precedence over personal want." **You've got an obligation to yourself, __Commander Tucker's voice haunted her thoughts. "No," she retorted. "I do not."

"You do not?" Skon inquired questionably.

"I...apologize. My illness has resulted in considerable lack of mental discipline."

"There is no need to apologize. I am aware that you are ill. You are aware, of course, that there are others that could serve as a mate that are not known publically as Melders?"

"How is that possible?" T'Pol questioned.

"You have been away from Vulcan for some time, T'Pol. In your absence, the Melder Resistance Movement has grown considerably. Lady T'Pau and myself are...involved in the movement."

"People change."

"Vulcan's don't." "I see. I wish you prosperity in your endeavors. May your revolution be as peaceful and successful as the Revolution of Surak was," T'Pol responded.

Skon nodded thoughtfully. "T'Pau and I could arrange a bonding between you and a very high respected member of the community who has Pa'Nar Syndrome. No one would suspect, and your parents would be most pleased, even your father," Skon suggested.

_Pleasing my father would be most unlikely._ "Perhaps."

"If you were to meld, however, it would be a mating bond. Your most intimate thoughts would be known to your mate including any sexual preferences for him...Or for someone else," Skon warned T'Pol.

*"What do you want to do?"* Commander Tucker's voice again taunted her and T'Pol gripped her hands tightly together to prevent the pain from becoming visible. "I do not wish to initiate such a bond with a stranger." Inwardly, she felt her hope crumble. The only cure possible was then out of the question. If they would know of her desires, then she could not risk such a linkage.

"I see. If you change your mind, T'Pol, let me know."

"I shall," T'Pol promised. _A change in my thought is not possible._

"Ambassador Soval wishes to speak with you," Skon remarked as he turned to leave.

"That shall have to wait until we are on Vulcan. I require meditation at the present. I trust I shall be allowed to visit him in confinement?" T'Pol questioned.

"Yes, it is his right to have visitors. I am certain he would want you as one of them," Skon told her.

_Would he if he knew why I cannot cure my illness?_ T'Pol wondered.

* * *

Archer scowled at the frame in front of him, his frown growing deeper and deeper with each passing moment. Beside him, Malcolm stood watching his captain with growing concern. _I don't think he understands the significance of this video,_ Malcolm thought with concern.

The video revealed Sub-Commander T'Pol bending over in agony. "I've seen enough, Malcolm," Archer said, clearly angry. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

Archer started to leave, and Malcolm felt a bit more than desperate. "Sir?" he questioned, hesitantly.

The Captain sighed wearily. "I suppose we'll have to add conduct unbecoming to his list of official charges. If you need anything else, Lieutenant, try to save it for morning. It's been a long day."

_Bugger, bugger, bugger._ "With all due respect, Captain, you are missing the point," Malcolm said bravely, hoping he didn't sound as insubordinate as he felt.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm expanded the facial region of Commander Tucker's body, and rewound the tape. His actions infuriated the Captain. "I've seen it once, Lieutenant, and I have no reason to see it again. Perhaps you have some sick desire to watch Trip in this state, but I don't."

*If I had only stayed with the navy, I wouldn't be in this situation, * Malcolm noted. "I assure you, Sir," Malcolm fought to keep his voice steady, "I have no desire to watch Commander Tucker in such a state. If you would only pay attention to—"

"I watched the video, Malcolm, and frankly, I don't see what you are seeing. I'm disappointed in you, Lieutenant, as you promised you wouldn't let your personal feelings interfere in your duty. As far as I'm concerned, you haven't kept that promise," Archer spat.

_If you knew how strongly I was resisting the urge to strike a senior officer, you would have no grounds to question my sense of duty, Captain,_ Malcolm thought angrily to himself. "Respectfully, sir, pay attention to his face. He is undergoing convulsions in that area and in his hands too, when they aren't...occupied," he implored Archer as he pressed the signal for the video to play again.

Archer watched the video with his arms folded and hands clenched. He searched desperately for the signs Malcolm saw and thought he saw them-but were they enough to warrant Malcolm's claims?

When the video ended, the acting first officer turned to look at the Captain expectantly. "Alright, Malcolm," Archer sighed, "I'll grant you that he is shaking-it may be because he is sick, it may be because he realizes the damage he's caused to the Sub-Commander, it may be because of his past activities."

"With respect, sir, neither you nor I are physicians. Regulations clearly state that if a prisoner's health is in danger, he is to be checked by the Chief Medical Officer," Malcolm replied. His urge to slap some sense into Archer had grown considerably.

"Yes, of course. I'll send Phlox to check on Trip immediately," Archer agreed.

"That won't be necessary, Captain. I'll take care of Commander Tucker's situation." At Archer's questioning look, he continued, "You have noted that you are tired. Perhaps you should get some sleep, Sir."

"You know, I have a feeling you are going to be even more of a nagging First Officer than T'Pol was," Archer said with a groan.

_If I have my way, a certain Commander will soon be first officer instead anyway,_ Malcolm thought. "It is likely, sir. Goodnight."

"Malcolm," Archer called, making the man pause on his mission towards sickbay, "The Captain in me isn't allowed to have favorites or preferences. But the friend in me hopes you're right."

_You haven't bloody well acted like it,_ Malcolm noted. Aloud, he stated, "Yes, sir." _Lovely thing about rank. It is always safe territory._

"See you tomorrow, for breakfast?" Archer asked hopefully.

"Yes, sir. I'll have a full report on Commander Tucker by then," Malcolm replied.

When Malcolm left, Archer sat alone in the armory officer's quarters for a moment in quiet contemplation before finally getting up to leave.


	24. Moments Of Clarity

Captain Archer had a great deal of faith that his current second in command would take good care of Trip. The armory officer was perhaps the most dependable-in the strictest sense of the word-of any in Archer's crew and his loyalty was phenomenal. Archer knew this and valued these traits enormously in Lieutenant Reed. They were, partially what made him such a good officer.

Thus, it was not mistrust nor a lack of faith in Malcolm that drove Archer down the empty corridors later that evening. No, the Captain was entirely certain that Malcolm would make sure Trip was taken care of.

_Much more so than you have, huh, Jon?_ the voice in his head sneered him slightly. One of many voices that had been taunting him since his conversation with the anxious lieutenant only hours before. Try as he might to silence them, they only grew louder. Which was why Jonathan Archer was walking down the corridor towards sickbay when he was certain he would already find Malcolm waiting.

Guilt. Pure and simple.

* * *

Admiral Forest shook his head in dismay. "I know he's a good engineer, Jon—" "He's the best in Starfleet, Admiral."

Forest shook his head. "He's got the potential maybe. And he is probably one of the best. But he has no real practical space experience. You need experienced players, Jon."

"With all due respect, Sir, hardly anyone on my team has much experience. That's not really the issue...is it?"

"No. Jon. Look, I know he's your friend. Having your friends serve underneath you is a bad habit to form. It can make command decisions awfully...difficult."

"I understand your concern, Admiral, but—"

"Do you, Captain Archer? Just how well do you understand me?" The Admiral sat back in his chair in frustration. "What will you do when you're faced with a decision that forces you to chose between your friend's life and your ship?"

"I'd chose my ship, Admiral. As any Captain has to."

"I'd like to believe you, Jon, except for one thing."

"What's that?"

"You hesitated."

* * *

But, Archer reflected ruefully, he hadn't hesitated this time.

Archer had told himself during the investigation that he was capable of being impartial. He had to admit now, however, that he had not been. If any other member of his crew had been in the same circumstance, Archer knew that he would have devoted more time to the investigation trying to prove their innocence. Why should it have been any different with Trip? The Captain's friend, and the closest thing Archer had left to a family.

The answer was simple, really. Overcompensation. After working so hard to get Trip on board, after promising not to let his friendship interfere with the ship, he had gone overboard in the opposite direction.

Either way, he had allowed a bias to slip into his decision making as a Captain. Perhaps Admiral Forest had been correct, after all. He was still rebuking himself when he finally arrived at sickbay. Archer's internal guilt was only reinforced at the sight of Lieutenant Reed waiting outside. The effects of apparent worry showed up in the slumped posture and slight frown crossing the armory officer's face. Archer felt considerable unease himself by simply looking at Malcolm. If whatever was the matter with Trip could affect the normally unflappable lieutenant in such a manner... _No, no. Doesn't do any good to jump to conclusions._

"Any diagnosis yet?" Archer inquired.

His question apparently broke the contemplative state Malcolm had been in. At the sound of the Captain's voice, the Lieutenant immediately stood to his full height to portray the trademark not-quite-at-attention but certainly-not-at-ease stance that was his own. "No, Sir," he replied, allowing a tad bit of frustration to creep in his tone. "But he has gotten worse, Sir."

"Worse?" The uneasy feeling in the pit of Archer's stomach began to grow.

"Yes, Captain. He was shaking visibly when I went to the brig. Not enough to alarm the Ensign on duty to call for medical attention, but definitely enough to be noticeable once we knew to look. Also," Malcolm paused momentarily to think how to phrase the last part of his report. "He's a definite shade of red, Sir."

"Does Phlox have any idea what's wrong with him?"

"None, Sir. He asked me to wait outside while he does a full examination."

There was a pause before Archer continued. "Malcolm, I just wanted to let you know...well, I'm sorry for doubting your sense of duty."

Malcolm nodded shortly. "It was understandable, Sir."

The next pause was even more noticeable than the one before it had been. "Once Phlox has determined what's wrong with him, he will probably be able to determine how long Trip's been affected with it," Archer ventured.

Malcolm looked at his Captain incredulously. Borrowing resolve from the generations of Reed men that had come before, he forced himself to sound respectful when he replied. "Surely you do not still believe it possible to hold him responsible for what he's been accused of?" a momentary pause elapsed before Malcolm added the mandatory "Sir."

Archer sighed in frustration and leaned back against the comforting bulkhead. "We saw him punch the Ambassador, Lieutenant. Neither you nor I can deny at least that charge." Archer did not add the important fact that such an act in and of itself was a court martial offense.

"He was ill," Malcolm reinforced. There was no doubt in his voice.

Wishing he could be as optimistic, Archer could only muster, "Let's hope so."

Neither tried again to break the silence that overtook the conversation as they waited for Phlox.

* * *

Inside sickbay, Trip was having a moment of clarity. Such moments were increasingly rare, and as such, Trip knew well enough to treasure the one he was being allowed to experience.

While having this moment of clarity, Trip was startled to discover that he in fact was no longer in the brig. It was funny, he couldn't exactly remember why he was in the brig to start with, but he was thankful to discover that find himself in sickbay instead.

_Thankful to be in sickbay? Who would ever have thought?_ Trip mused silently to himself.

"Ah, Commander Tucker. You're awake, I see," came the cheerful voice of the ship's physician.

"Yep," was all Trip could muster. _Damn, my throat is dry._ As if reading his thoughts, Phlox handed him a glass of water.

"And you appear to be somewhat coherent. That is certainly a welcome surprise, given your relatively uncomprehending state only moments ago," Phlox noted as he checked the bio sign readings. He noticed with some surprise that nothing had changed. Indeed, the hormonal levels continued to climb. Phlox was left to conclude that Trip's new state of awareness was a mental state, not a biological one.

After finishing the water, Trip managed to speak again. "Yeah, I have little moments that allow me to think clearly." he acknowledged. "Could I have some more water? I'm awfully thirsty."

"Certainly." After accommodating the engineer's request, Phlox asked, "Between these moments of cohesion...you are unable to think clearly?"

"Yep. It's real fuzzy. It's like livin' in a fog kind of." Trip finished. "But I dream a lot too...or at least I think I'm dreamin'. But the dreams seem more real than the non-dreams."

"Can you tell me exactly what's going on in these dreams of yours?" Phlox inquired.

Trip squirmed and for a moment Phlox feared he was slipping back into his state of incoherence. "Ah, Doc, they're kinda pers'nal," he remarked evasively.

Phlox filed away the interesting fact that Commander Tucker's accent grew thicker when he became embarrassed. "I see. They are of a sexual nature, then?" The Doctor inquired.

Trip was horrified for a moment. _Please, oh, please don't let me have been talking in my sleep!_ he prayed inwardly. "Um, yep, they are. Kinda silly, really. It's been a long time since I've had any wet dreams, but well..." he trailed off.

"Wet dreams?" The Doctor inquired. "Ah, yes. A stage typically associated with puberty in human males, correct?"

"Got it in one, Doc. Can I have some more water?" _I feel like I've just run a marathon. This is ridiculous._

Handing his patient another glass, the doctor remarked, "I have always believed such terminology to be vulgar. Nonetheless, your apparel was somewhat soiled." Ignoring his patient's discomfort, he continued, "Can you tell me any other symptoms?"

"Better be careful, Doc. With understatements like that someone's likely to mistake you for T'Pol," Trip responded. "Speakin' of which, how's she doin'? Did ya find out anything else about her illness?"

Choosing to ignore his patient's questions for the moment, Phlox re-asked his prior question, "Other than generally confusion, are you experiencing any other symptoms?"

"Um, I feel awfully light headed, least when I don't have a headache I'd give my right arm to end, and I have a few real sharp pains around the groin area," Trip revealed. _He's being awfully uncommunicative for a change,_ Trip noted to himself. A tiny shiver of fear revealed itself. _Could the dream have really happened? Did I really hurt T'Pol?_

"You are experiencing an increased level of semen development that is abnormal for your species," Phlox was saying. "The increased rate, could in fact, attribute to the discomfort in the genital region. Particularly if you have not been engaging in methods to relieve yourself appropriately."

*No, no. No more relieving myself. The last time I did that...* But Trip had convinced himself that had been a dream. It hadn't happened. Had it? "Doc...I need to know. Is T'Pol okay?" _Please, oh, please tell me I didn't hurt her._

The Denobulan pondered the appropriate response for a moment. In Trip's fragile state, he possibly could not handle the impact of the truth. It was best not to answer him truthfully. "The Sub-Commander is well, Commander," he responded. He did not add that the Sub-Commander was approximately half-way back to Vulcan by now.

The time it took Phlox to determine exactly how to answer Commander Tucker was all the time the engineer needed to slip back into his state of state of incomprehension. The return was marked by an increase in the visibility of trembling and yet another increase in the level of hormones coursing through his body.

"Doctor Phlox?" the sound of the Captain's voice did not surprise the physician. Nor was he surprised to discover Malcolm standing beside the Captain when he turned around. "We heard voices and thought maybe Trip was feeling better?"

Phlox shook his head. "No, Captain. In fact, the Commander's condition has only steadily worsened. His hormonal levels are rising steadily, his body temperature is rising, his semen count is drastically increasing. In fact his entire internal structure is off kilter. I am uncertain as to why and am at a loss as how to stop it. I am certain that if it is not stopped, however, and soon, Commander Tucker will die."

The somewhat hopeful expressions of both men vanished and were instead replaced by crestfallen expressions.

"Do you have any indication of how long Trip may have been afflicted with this disease?" Archer asked quietly.

The look of irritation that passed from the armory officer to his Captain was not missed by the Doctor. Phlox wondered about its origins but chose to ignore it. "No, Captain, I cannot tell for certain. However, the Commander has been behaving strangely since the incident with Ambassador Soval in which he sustained a nerve pinch. T'Pol had expressed concern that he may have been experiencing side effects from the pinch."

"A nerve pinch can cause this much damage?" Malcolm asked in disbelief.

"I did not believe so, Lieutenant. However, I am far from being an expert on matters of Vulcan nerve pinches. I will be consulting Ambassador V'Lar in the morning. Perhaps she knows something I do not about such matters." Phlox did not elaborate further with his own confusion over what seemed to be Commander Tucker's impossible situation.

"In the meantime, gentlemen, may I remind you that you are neither Vulcan nor Denobulan? It would be best if you were resting. You may come back and see Commander Tucker in the morning."

Casting two last glances back towards their friend, Malcolm and Archer left sickbay willingly.

Walking to the turbolift, Archer remarked, "You know, I don't think sleep is going to come to me tonight."

Malcolm nodded once in agreement. "I am certain it will not. In fact, I was headed for the gym to workout a bit before turning in."

"Sounds like a good idea. A couple of laps might help lull you to sleep," Archer agreed.

"Actually, Sir, I was thinking more of practicing my self defense. Before the Sub-Commander left, she began teaching me some very valuable Vulcan moves. There's only one problem."

"What's that, Malcolm?"

"I require a partner."

"Well, I'm not getting any sleep tonight. Teach me?"

Malcolm allowed a small smile as he responded. "Gladly, Sir."


	25. Reflections

Meditation was becoming difficult.

Unfortunately, that was not the only further complication in T'Pol's illness. She noted with uncharacteristic concern that the headache she had grown to associate with Commander Tucker's emotions-or, more accurately, her own responses to his emotions-only dimmed during meditation and for a brief period immediately following the procedure. She supposed that it would not be long before meditation would cease to be an effective counter-agent against the head pain.

But for now, it still served efficiently when meditation could in fact be achieved. T'Pol greatly desired relief as she had been in a state of constant pain since her last successful meditation six hours ago.

_Six point five,_ corrected a small voice inside her head. As her condition increased, she became increasingly less precise in her calculations. It had become glaringly apparent on the bridge hours-two...two point four...two point three?-ago when T'Pol had given the calculation for arriving back at Vulcan. Approximately thirty-seven hours, she had stated. Her companions had looked at her with some surprise. Captain Skon had the grace to only nod his head and issue a thank you, but T'Pol knew they were surprised at her lack of preciseness. For a Vulcan who had served as a science officer, such lapses were unseemly. For the first time in the twelve point eight hours since they had left Enterprise, T'Pol felt a momentary sense of relief for having done so. Having such lapses on that ship, as second in command, could have caused any number of unfortunate casualties. Here, aboard the small passenger ship T'Lar, T'Pol could retreat safely back to her quarters. No one would be injured due to her carelessness.

The scientist in T'Pol had postulated that the increased symptoms most likely were related to the increased swelling of her brain tissue. Logically, as one portion of her brain swelled, it would affect the other segments of the same organ: thus explaining the lack of concentration, trouble with numerical units, and sleeplessness that had increased in recent hours.

_At this rate, I shall be not be far from death by the time we arrive at Vulcan,_ T'Pol surmised to herself. _In thirty-five hours...no. Thirty-five point two hours from now._ The journey from the Enterprise back to Vulcan at their current speed would take exactly two earth days.

Inwardly, T'Pol wondered when how long she had been referring to events in such Terran terms. More disquieting than the presence of her references was the ease with which they came.

Closing her eyes yet again, T'Pol took a deep breath that could easily have been mistaken as a sigh. _My humans would have been quite delighted to have heard such a slip,_ she noted, wondering when they had become her humans exactly. Had it been as early as when she had chosen to tell Archer of the Rigellians? Perhaps after she had first defied her parents and her future in-laws by choosing the Enterprise over returning to Vulcan. Or perhaps the incident at P'Jem. Still yet, it may have been the moment she realized there was some truth to Archer's gazelle speech and verbally defended him.

Perhaps it had been when she had begun to embrace their habits such as movie night or their food such as p... _No, it is best not to think of that._

_Why are their habits associated so readily with him?_ T'Pol wondered. She did acknowledge however, that of all her humans, he would have been the most delighted to have heard her sigh. He had always taken an obscene delight in provoking human-like emotions from her.

Time had changed her, indeed. Two years ago, she would not have admitted to the ability to have human emotions. Her time on the Enterprise had changed that. Her time with Commander Tucker and his infuriating, illogical, irrational, and ill-mannered attributes had played a large role in that.

_Kaiidth,_ she scolded herself. _My time on the Enterprise is over. I shall return to Vulcan now._

Once there, she would undergo the proper ceremonials-among them the Reflection ceremony. The Reflection Ceremony, deemed the most essential to any Vulcan with advance knowledge of impending and unpreventable death, was a time in which the said Vulcan would meditate, possibly for the last time. While in this meditation state, one would be surrounded by several material items from which they associated memories of importance. These items were usually scholarly works written by the dying Vulcan or other mementos demonstrating personal achievement in life. There they would contemplate their life's work and their accomplishments.

Personally, T'Pol found the whole situation lacking in logic. But as was often the case with her people, tradition and logic came to conflict. And tradition prevailed. "This whole thing sounds illogical," came the southerner's voice in her head. It was followed with another memory of the man from an earlier time frame, "proving again just how consistent you Vulcans can be."

Opening her eyes, T'Pol realized that with the difficulty in achieving meditation that she was currently experiencing, it was highly likely that she would be unable to achieve meditation at all by the time they arrived back to Vulcan. _I must conduct the ceremony of Reflection now. Otherwise, it shall be unattainable,_ she decided.

Her decision made, T'Pol rose and went for the two small pieces of luggage she had brought from Enterprise. Her personal mementos were small in quantity but spoke volumes about their owner in quality. She retrieved only three items. The first was the left over candle stub given to her by her parents as a child. The second the medallion given upon completion of the Kohlinar. Third and last was a photograph taken of the Enterprise crew during shore leave. Gathering the items in her arms, T'Pol brought them back to her mediation area and displayed them in a circle. The door chimed at that moment, halting her ceremony. "Enter," she called, restraining growing agitation. She looked increasingly forward to arriving on Vulcan. There, she would be allowed to die in peace.

She was not overly surprised to see the figure of Captain Skon. "Greetings, Captain. What brings you here?" asked T'Pol.

Before answering, Skon took in arrangement of items positioned around T'Pol. "You are beginning the Reflection Ceremony?" he asked.

"Yes. I find it increasingly difficult to mediate. Doing so may become impossible by the time we reach Vulcan."

Skon nodded his head. "Most logical," he agreed.

The unexpected Vulcan compliment warmed T'Pol more than she had expected possible. While the humans tried to compliment her to the best of their ability, they often ended up praising emotional attributes that T'Pol could not have felt appreciation for achieving. Crewman Cutler for example had praised her hair styling. Vanity is immaterial to Vulcans; therefore, the compliment was ineffective. Archer would occasionally attempt to praise her job performance. His attempts were somewhat misplaced as well. It was only logical that she would do her job to the best of her ability. Receiving praise for doing so made little sense.

Skon's compliment, however, quietly acknowledged that she was, for all her time spent with humans, still a true Vulcan. Indeed, an honorable representative of their race, regardless of what the Vulcan High Command, the Vulcan Medical Community, or Soval may have believed. T'Pol fought down the emotions within her as she murmured, "I am honored."

Skon eyed her for a moment. It was not a judgmental stare, but rather, one of concern. "It is customary on Vulcan to explain the reasoning for your selections prior to the Reflection Ceremony."

"My family is unavailable," T'Pol responded.

"True. However, I am not," Skon replied simply.

"The ship requires her Captain."

"Constable Sumarek is capable of temporary command."

"You are not obligated."

"Nor are you," Skon supplied, giving her an out to send him away if she did not desire him to play a role in the ceremony. He would not force her to accept his offer. The choice was hers. T'Pol gestured for him to sit down.

He sat cross-legged across from her. He folded his hands in front of him and prepared to wait. The speaker was not to be interrupted during the Reflection Ceremony.

Picking up the candle stub first, she reflected that in its current shade of light yellow, few would believe it had once been a deep green. _Sentient beings are no less affected by the passage of time than inanimate objects,_ she noted to herself. After turning the object over in her hand one last time, T'Pol held the object at mid chest level and began to speak:

"The first token of reflection is the remaining piece of my first meditation candle, given to me by my parents when I reached the age of six. With this candle, I rose to the top of meditation class. Its contains professional significance because the introductory meditation class is where I first obtained the basic tenets of logic that have continued to guide my scientific inquiry to this day. It holds personal significance because it represents a time in which my parents and I were in complete agreement concerning my career choices." T'Pol allowed a slight quirk of the eyebrow-the Vulcan equivalent of a smirk as she added, "Such incidences have become rare."

Skon could only be thankful he was not permitted to speak during the ceremony.

Moving on to the Kohlinar medal, T'Pol reminisced: "The second token of reflection is the medallion I received upon completing the Kohlinar. It holds professional significance because it symbolized a turning point in my career back towards diplomacy. This change in direction was crucial in being assigned to the Vulcan High Command. It holds personal significance because it represents my own efforts to atone for actions I believed to be unfitting for a Vulcan."

Skon, having been present for those actions, and in some ways responsible, was again thankful he was not permitted to speak.

T'Pol hesitated before picking up the third article. The hesitation was brief, but noticeable. This time, T'Pol was thankful Skon was not permitted to speak. Holding the photograph in her hand, she began to speak: "The third token of reflection is a photograph taken by Commander Charles Tucker III during shore leave. It holds professional significance because I have served upon the Enterprise for the past two years." She placed the photograph down, symbolizing completion of the ceremony.

Skon was permitted to speak. "You did not mention the personal significance behind the photograph."

"There are many. All of which are illogical. I thought to spare you of potentially illness induced irrationalities," T'Pol responded.

"Indeed? While I appreciate the effort, you realize as well as I do that logic and reason has little to do with this ceremony, T'Pol."

"It is inconceivable that our people have kept it."

"It is tradition, T'Pol. Do not spare me the irrationalities. If I was not aware of your illness, we would not be having this conversation."

Unable to dispute the logic inherent in the argument, T'Pol began hesitantly. "The personal significance of Captain Archer in this photograph can be seen in his relationship with the canine he is holding. While the smell of the animal is decidedly unpleasant, I came to an understanding of the human capability to dedicate themselves fully to a single object. At first I found this to be an example of human irrationalism, however, I have come to understand it as a human strength." T'Pol did not elaborate further. At Skon's nod of understanding, she continued.

"The personal significance of Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato was a deeper understanding of human intimacies. The two are vastly different from one another. He is brave, silent, and meticulous; she is easily frightened, social, and emotional. Yet the two are inexplicable attracted to one another. It has been a valuable lesson in human notions of romance."

"The personal significance of Ensign Mayweather was his relationship with his family. Upon the death of his father, Ensign Mayweather was willing to abandon his career for the sake of his family's welfare."

"Combined, Ensign Mayweather, Ensign Sato, Lieutenant Reed, and Captain Archer have all demonstrated differing degrees and expressions of the human concepts of love. Why it is unarguably an illogical human emotion...I have come to understand the reason humans value it as much as they do after observing them."

Skon understood what such a concession must have cost her. He also realized that such a conversation would not have taken place anywhere outside of the Reflection Ceremony. T'Pol was ready to die. Out of respect for her condition, he hid his surprise at her revelation.

"And what of Commander Tucker?" he asked as she sat the photograph down. "What was his personal contribution?"

"He is not in the photograph," she replied.

"It would have been difficult for him to do so while simultaneously taking the picture, given the crude nature of human photography with which this photograph was apparently taken. Still, his presence was felt, was it not?"

A considerable silence passed before T'Pol allowed herself to answer. "When I first met Commander Tucker I determined him to be unprofessional, unreasonable, illogical, ill-mannered and unfit to serve aboard a starship. Overtime, I have discovered...he has found ways to challenge my preconceptions of not only him but humanity as well."

Skon did not bother to hide his surprise this time. Regaining his composure, he remarked, "You have grown affectionate for them."

T'Pol replied with an answer of her own. "Do you believe loyalty to be an emotion?" she asked. Commander Tucker had once sarcastically insinuated that she believed so. At the time, part of her had agreed. Now, however, she was unsure.

"Without loyalty, neither starships nor marriages would thrive. If loyalty is an emotion, it is one of the few useful ones."

T'Pol shook her head, unwilling to concede to such a possibility. "Such reasoning is dangerous. If Vulcans begin to allow emotions to seep into our culture, what then becomes of logic?"

Skon inclined his head as he answered, "It then becomes a counterbalance to the emotions."

T'Pol could say nothing else. Thankfully, she did not have to, as Skon continued for her. "I have come to announce that T'Pau recently received an encrypted message from Vulcan. It appears Sopel's parents are looking for a marital partner."

"I take it he is one of the 'respected' Vulcans you spoke of before?" T'Pol asked.

"Yes. Perhaps you have heard of him? He is an Anthropologist serving on the Vulcan outpost between Vulcan and Andoria. Not only is he a Melder, but he is afflicted with Pa'Nar Syndrome as well, for which he is being treated."

"I have explained that I do not wish to bond with a stranger and share such an intimate bond."

"I realize your reluctance and I respect it. However, you may wish to reconsider for this reason: Sopel's lifestyle will afford you the ability to return to your ship, where I believe you wish to be."

"His lifestyle?" T'Pol questioned.

"He is involved with a young Andorian female. His parents desire to marry him off to a prominent, decent Vulcan female in hopes of remaining respectable. It would not do for their son to be linked with a species with whom we only so recently nearly went to war. As he is currently un-married and in such close proximity to females of all species, his behavior is scrutinized much more closely than it would be if he were married." Skon replied.

"Logical," T'Pol responded. Inwardly, she recalled the horror Commander Tucker had felt when he had learned about Vulcan marriages. She was beginning to experience similar sensations. "It is believed we will develop an affection for one another," she had told him. Such a result would be unlikely in the marriage between her and Prince Sopel.

"Their logic is flawless. While you would be free to return to Enterprise, you would still be bonded. Such a bond could not be broken without arising suspicions," Skon warned.

"But I would have my life and my career back," she finished for him.

Skon nodded. "Be advised that he shall most likely continue to be involved with the Andorian female."

"I shall serve as his cover so that he may continue to do so?" T'Pol surmised.

"Yes."

Not an ideal situation by any means. But it was logical. Logic had dictated the reason for Vulcan marriages for thousands of years. She had no reason to believe she should be an exception. "I am agreeable to that course of action," she informed Skon. "You are certain?"

"Yes."

Skon rose. T'Pol rose as well, out of respect. "Since Soval is unable to speak for you in the matter, I will see to the arrangements."

"I will appreciate that."

Skon somehow thought that perhaps Soval himself would disagree. "He has requested permission to dine with you this evening. Is that acceptable or do you need more time to meditate?"

"I thought he was being held in confinement," T'Pol remarked.

"He was. However, I am willing to let him come and dine with you in your quarters as long as Sumarek escorts him in both directions," Skon supplied.

"I will see him," T'Pol agreed.

"I do not envy your position in telling him about the impending wedding," Skon remarked.

"It shall be...difficult," T'Pol admitted.


	26. Reluctant Resolutions: Pre-Breakfast

It had been V'Lar's idea to bring Dr. Ventik aboard. Ventik was a young Vulcan, even by human standards. He had a decided reputation for being both brilliant and slightly eccentric. The Vulcan to human translation of "eccentric" being that he was not completely guided by logic in his decisions. He was far from being a dissident of the Vulcan people. In time, his logic would improve and his emotions would be kept in place. As far as V'Lar was concerned, Ventik had proven his worthiness as a Vulcan when he had contacted Sumarek about Soval's erratic behavior.

For his part, Phlox was leery about having Ventik examine his patient. _If serving with T'Pol has taught me nothing else, it is how much Vulcans can hold on to their traditions, when it makes no sense to do so,_ Phlox noted. The realization made Phlox wonder what Commander Tucker would say when he woke to discover T'Pol to be gone. No doubt she had left him a communiqu as she had the rest of the senior staff. _I wonder how truthful she was in her memo to him._

Then again, Phlox mused, it would have been difficult for the Sub-Commander to have been truthful with Commander Tucker when she was reluctant to be truthful with herself concerning the engineer.

Presently, Ventik finished his examination. "Commander Tucker is not suffering from any foreseeable side effects of a nerve pinch," he stated authoritatively.

"How can you be certain?" Phlox inquired. "While the nerve pinch does not have long term negative effects, it does tend to leave the tissue around the affected nerve minutely swollen for some time. As a result, the victim of the pinch typically feels an amount of discomfort and experiences swelling in the vicinity of the contact. Additionally, the nerve itself would depict some irritation. None of these symptoms are present in your patient," Ventik informed him.

_And I was worried about him being too reticent?_ Phlox thought inwardly. "The only pain Commander Tucker has reported has been in his genital region," the physician remarked.

Ventik looked at him quizzically. "It is unlikely Soval performed a nerve pinch to Commander Tucker's genitals," he stated.

_Ah, who says Vulcans don't have a sense of humor?_ Phlox chuckled to himself. "True. I do not understand however, why Ambassador Soval would claim to have performed a nerve pinch when he clearly did not."

V'Lar answered this time, "Doctor Phlox, you gave the impression that you were aware of what illness Soval was suffering from when he was in sickbay."

"Yes," Phlox agreed. "Pon Far, I believe you call it. And to my knowledge, Vulcans are one of the few species in the galaxy that believe mating to be a disease."

"There is a reason for our displeasure with the...condition. It tends to make one illogical for a time. It also affects a Vulcan's temperament," V'Lar noted. "It is possible Soval assaulted Commander Tucker. He would not consciously lie about such an occurrence, but could generally not remember. Soval may well have assaulted the Commander and later discovered him to be unconscious. He may have assumed a nerve pinch was to blame."

"Commander Tucker was not assaulted," Phlox replied. "It was one of the first things I checked for when he was brought into sickbay. There were no discernable bruises or swellings of any kind to give any indication he had been assaulted." He did not add that there was considerable proof that Ambassador Soval had been assaulted.

Ventik was looking at them both curiously, no doubt wondering how this outworlder knew of such a sacred Vulcan secret.

*It's entirely too bad Vulcans do not wish to share pon far with the larger medical community. It's terribly intriguing. Not only does it force them to mate, but it increases their hormonal activity, intensifies their temperament, causes bouts of delusion...* Phlox stopped mid-thought, startled. It was an impossible thought but yet-the only one that made any sense.

"Dr. Ventik, Ambassador V'Lar, is there any way Ambassador Soval could have...transmitted his condition to Commander Tucker?"

"No," came the immediate reply. "Pon Far is not communicable, Doctor. And I am quite curious as to how you have so much knowledge of our condition," Ventik replied.

"I'll answer your question after you answer mine. Commander Tucker has been suffering from many of the same mental conditions you acknowledge come from pon far. His semen count is steadily rising, which I would take it is part of the Vulcan mating ritual as well. Ambassador Soval conveniently was affected with pon far. The two have to bear some relation to one another," Phlox finished.

"Ambassador Soval was not the only Vulcan aboard," Ventik replied.

"Sub-Commander T'Pol was not affected with any form of pon far," Phlox replied.

"What was she affected with?" V'Lar asked.

Phlox shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you as it would breach doctor-patient confidentiality. But what if she had been affected? Would she have been able to transmit the condition?"

Both Vulcans hesitated and Phlox wondered momentarily if his time with humans had only served to strengthen his temper.

Finally, Ventik spoke. "It is possible. When a Vulcan in pon far mates, it triggers certain biological reactions in the non-affected partner. It is...feasible that if Commander Tucker had engaged in sexual intercourse with someone in the throes of pon far, he could have been similarly affected. It is highly illogical, of course, as he is not a Vulcan. However, it is highly illogical that a human should be experiencing symptoms of pon far at all." Ventik's brows furrowed a bit in consternation. "If Sub-Commander T'Pol were here, she would gladly tell you that Commander Tucker is a highly illogical specimen," Phlox replied. Mentally, he marveled at the man lying on the biobed. First man to get pregnant, first man to have a Vulcan mating condition.

"When you checked for signs of assault, did you check for signs of sexual assault as well?" V'Lar inquired.

"There were no signs of sexual intercourse of any type, forced or otherwise having taken place," Phlox answered.

The three were silent for a moment before Ventik spoke again. "One thing is certain, Doctor. How it occurred is not immediately important to your patient, but he is undergoing pon far, as both his mental and physical health state. If you wish for him to live, there is only one cure that can be proscribed."

* * *

_Breakfast_

To say that Captain Archer was sore was an understatement.

The man responsible for his soreness sat to his left, munching nonchalantly on his pancakes. Across from Malcolm sat Ensign Sato, happily enjoying her own breakfast. Ambassador Shran completed their quadruplet.

"Where is Ambassador V'Lar this morning?" The Andorian spoke for the first time.

"She was needed in sickbay," Archer answered.

"Why is that?" Shran asked. The Andorian watched curiously as Malcolm proceeded to spread more peanut butter over his pancakes. After Malcolm sat the container of peanut butter down, Shran reached for it and began to coat his breakfast as well.

"One of our crew is ill," Archer remarked, "and Doctor Phlox is uncertain what exactly is wrong with him. He believes Ambassador V'Lar may be able to help."

"Is your injured crewman Commander Tucker?" Shran further inquired.

"Yes, it is," Archer informed him.

"What do you call this sticky substance?" Shran asked of Malcolm.

"Peanut butter," Malcolm replied.

"Do you suppose, Archer, that your government would be willing to trade with Andoria for more of this substance?" Shran inquired.

"I'm sure it can be arranged," Archer replied, taken by surprise. "Speaking of trade, how much longer do you believe the discussions between you and Ambassador V'Lar are going to take?"

Shran answered. "Both of our people are reviewing the treaty agreement we have tentatively agreed on. If all goes well, then we will be able to sign the treaty in three days. If not, then we will begin the process all over again. I'll be going back to my ship today, Archer, as there is no reason for me to wait on your ship. I"ll come back when I hear from my people."

Archer nodded his head in agreement. "I'll have Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato escort you to the landing bay. I would accompany you, but —"

"But you need to check on your crewman. That is understandable," Shran remarked.

The four finished their meal in silence. When they rose, Shran spoke again. "I believe Commander Tucker he is capable of being a fine Captain some day. I hope neither illness nor his incident with Ambassador Soval will prevent that from coming true. After all," The Andorian's antennae twitched as he chuckled, "I myself have had the urge to slug Soval a few times. I'm sure you have known the urge as well."

Hoshi and Malcolm did not bother to hide their smiles while Archer chuckled softly. "He's quite demanding," he agreed.

* * *

_Post-Breakfast_

Ventik had not been pleased with the decision to tell Captain Archer exactly what was going on. In the end, however, V'Lar had silenced him by reminding him that not only could she personally vouch for the honorable nature of the Captain, but also that "it is far less riskier to involve one more person than to allow Commander Tucker to die and arouse the suspicion of all of Starfleet Command."

Logical, Ventik had agreed.

And so, they both sat listening as Phlox described what was wrong to Captain Archer. Ventik was pleased to discover that Phlox left out much of the detail surrounding pon far. He only told the Captain the bare minimum of what he needed to know. Mainly, that it was part of a mating drive in Vulcans and that Commander Tucker was somehow infected.

"How?" came the natural question from Captain Archer.

"We are not certain," Phox replied.

"How do you plan to cure it?" Archer asked with a frown. From the look on his face, Phlox surmised that his Captain already knew the answer.

"He will need to mate," Phlox stated.

As expected, Archer did not take that well. "How the hell do you suggest we go about that? This is a ship of professional men and women-I cannot simply go up to one of my female crewmembers and say, 'Hello, Ensign, would you mind taking time out of your day to have sex with the Chief Engineer?' To say nothing about the moral implications, that are involved, it would be asking them to directly violate the anti-fraternization laws!"

"Vulcans do not have anti-fraternization laws," Ventik began. He was unaware of how much that would potentially aggravate the Captain.

"What would be the point? You are only supposed to have sex every seven years anyway!" Then he gave a bitter laugh. The reason for such a laugh was unknown.

Ventik looked at V'Lar questionably. _This_ was the man she trusted? It did not seem a prudent decision. Still, he continued. "My people have the capacity to engage in intercourse without attaching feelings to the act. As a result, members of Vulcan crews of both genders are prepared to serve as temporary partners in cases where the ship cannot make it back to our home world in time."

Archer stared at him, fighting feelings of revulsion. "That's—" Archer searched for the word, and then gave up. "That's great for you," he said finally. "But it doesn't help Trip's situation much."

"On the contrary," Ventik replied. "It may."

"How?"

"Although it is unclear how your engineer was affected, it is certain that he is suffering from a Vulcan condition. We would willingly give of our services. In that way, not only would your engineer's life be saved, but no one further outside Vulcan would have to know of our private mating rituals," Ventik explained.

Archer struggled with his anger. "You want me to allow Trip to have sex with one of your crewmembers ?" he asked in disbelief.

"You will want it, if you desire to save his life," Ventik replied.

"Trip wouldn't approve. He'd never approve of someone giving their body to him who did not want to be with him," Archer argued. "Even if he didn't care about that, he's in no condition to give his consent. Permitting someone to have sex with him in this state...it would be condoning the rape of my best friend."

"Captain, while that may be true," Phlox intervened, "You will ultimately have to decide which you value more: Commander Tucker's feelings or his life. You cannot spare them both."

Archer felt his resolve begin to crumple. "Isn't there anything you can do?" he asked Phlox.

Phlox shook his head. "I'm sorry, Captain. It's very specific and is the result of thousands of years of Vulcan evolution. I can no more do anything for Commander Tucker's condition than I could for a woman who walked in complaining about her menstrual cycle. I can make them both comfortable, but only until the inevitable result is completed."

Archer looked down at the man on the biobed. He watched his ragged breathing and trembling body, heard his incoherent murmurings. Trip gave no indication he could even hear what was being said. He was dreaming, Phlox had said. Archer wondered idly if Trip would know the difference between his current dream and what Archer was about to give sanction to. Sweat drenched Trip's face, soaking his clothes and drenching his hair. Archer leaned forward to wipe a bit of sweat away from his friend's face and was disturbed to find his friend burning up. He was further disturbed to hear Trip wimper, as though Archer's very touch hurt him.

"I'm sorry, Trip," he told the man on the biobed. "And not just for the touch either."

"Cap'n?" Trip's eyes were open for the first time since Archer had come in.

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, I have to ask you a question."

"Shoot," Trip replied. "But first-Doc-water?" Trip barely had the strength to hold the cup, but insisted on doing it himself.

"It turns out, in order to cure your illness you have to mate."

"Have to?"

"If you don't, you'll die."

"Matin' sounds like the better option, Cap'n."

"Are you sure?"

"Just make sure she doesn't wear any damn Triaxian silk," Trip grumbled.

With that, the connection was gone. The cup fell from Trip's hands, and the trembles began again with renewed fervor.

The Captain's resolve crumbled. "She will be a willing partner?" he asked quietly.

"Contrary to what you possibly believe, Vulcans do not condone rape," Ventik replied.

"He isn't Vulcan...are you certain there will be a Vulcan willing to mate with a human?" the moment Archer asked it, he thought of T'Pol. If she hadn't left...but she had. No point in dwelling on that.

Still, it made him smirk just a tad when Ventik replied, "I am certain it will not be the first time."

No, Archer reflected, it wouldn't.

"The volunteer will not be joining with Commander Tucker out of feelings for passion, Captain Archer," V'Lar reminded him. "She will be mating with him to preserve our species' privacy and to save a life that would have otherwise been taken because of contact with our species." V'Lar paused. "She will not only be willing, but will be most honored. Indeed, I myself would volunteer except that she shall need to be with him for a week at least and I will be needed for the peace conference."

Archer wanted to shout at that moment, and point out the inherent emotionalism connected to honor. But he did not. He simply stated, "I want it to take place on the Enterprise. And in the meantime, Doctor, I want you to find out how the hell Trip came down with this 'evolutionary' Vulcan disease."

* * *

_Lunch_

Lieutenant Hess looked up in surprise as she saw Malcolm and Hoshi walk into the mess hall. Her lunch companion, Travis Mayweather, noticed her look of surprise and turned his head in order to follow her gaze. "Well, what do you suppose is wrong with them?" he asked. He was referring, of course to the lack of friendly banter that was typically present between the linguist and the armory officer.

"I don't know," Hess replied. "Maybe one of them realized what other things they could be doing instead of sending each other longing glances and are pissed they're missing out."

"What kind of other things?" Travis asked with a grin.

Hess simply smiled suggestively.

Both Hess and Mayweather watched as the two stood silently in line, silently took their trays, and silently scanned opposite sides of the room for someone to sit. Their gazes fell upon Travis and Hess nearly at the same time. They both looked at one another at the same time, as if to judge whether the other wanted to sit at the table more than they did. Seeing their indecision, Travis called, "Hoshi, Malcolm, over here."

Their decision now made for them, the two made their way to Travis and Hess' table to eat.

"Well, well, what brings you here to eat with the little people?" Travis teased. Hoshi allowed a small smile and Malcolm rolled his eyes as they both sat down.

"The Captain wasn't in the mood for lunch," Hoshi supplanted.

Hess saw that this was her opportunity. While Lieutenant Reed still caused her a degree of anxiety, she decided to go for it anyway. "I take it he was worried about Commander Tucker?" she asked, as casually as possible.

The casual approach didn't work. The armory officer shot her an icy glare. "What does that mean, Lieutenant?" he demanded.

Hess shrugged. "It's a small ship, Lieutenant Reed," she answered. "The rumor mill's going full force."

"It would be wise not to listen to the rumor mill," Malcolm replied.

"Maybe. All I know is that Commander Tucker used to be in the brig, now he's in sickbay. And I'm worried about my commanding officer. I'm not the only one," Hess finished. That much was definitely true. It was a miracle any work had been finished in engineering, considering the amount of speculation that was taking place.

Malcolm sighed and pushed his pasta around on his plate irritably, trying to decide how much was appropriate to reveal. While his companions were undoubtedly worried about Trip, there was still a certain amount of protocol to be maintained. "Commander Tucker's charges have been dropped," he told her finally, "as it has been determined he was not in control of his senses at the time of the so-called incident. As for what's wrong with him exactly, only Doctor Phlox and Captain Archer know for certain. His treatment, however, is due to arrive from the Vulcan ship this evening."

"He's going to be alright, then?" Hess pressed.

"As long as he responds to treatment," Malcolm replied.

"That's good. It'll be great to have him back in engineering. I like to think I'm competent, but there's a reason he's chief of engineering," Hess remarked. "By the way, what in the world did Ensign Connelly do to deserve the punishment you dished out to her, if I may ask?"

"What kind of punishment?" Travis piqued up.

Hess chuckled. "She's been temporarily transferred to engineering to scrub plasma conduits for three weeks solid."

"Ouch!" Travis laughed. "What'd she do, Malcolm?"

Malcolm scowled. Connelly had been the one in charge of watching Commander Tucker when he had began to...enjoy himself in the brig. "Let's just say she was less than professional to Commander Tucker while he was in custody."

Hess' eyes darkened. "In that case, I'll be sure she has a particularly pleasant experience while under my command," she promised.

Malcolm smiled. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it, Lieutenant," he rejoined.

"Oh, Malcolm, for heaven's sake, we're eating LUNCH!" It was the first time Hoshi had spoken since they had sat down. "This is hardly the place to be so formal, regardless of what type of issues you might have against the evils of fraternization!" With that, Hoshi got up from the table, taking her tray but leaving behind three very stunned companions.

"What was that about?" Travis asked in amazement. To his knowledge, Hoshi had never told anyone off in such a manner. Certainly never a superior officer.

"She's not very happy with me at the moment," Malcolm responded truthfully. "If you'll excuse me, I have things in the armory that require my attention."

Watching Malcolm go, Hess shook her head. "How can two people be so oblivious?" she questioned. "Since I've been filling in for Commander Tucker, I couldn't possibly miss the looks they are giving each other. How could they?"

Travis shrugged. "It was even worse when the Sub-Commander and Trip were on the bridge. The way Malcolm and Hoshi communicate with their looks? Nothing compared to how T'Pol and Trip communicated verbally."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me, I've heard them going at it in engineering before. I feel kinda bad for both of them, now. They obviously had some type of attraction for one another. Yet they never got together before she had to leave. Why's everyone on this ship so damn stubborn?"

"I don't know. But I feel sorry for Hoshi. Malcolm's never going to be willing to engage in a relationship on board," Travis replied, draining his milk.

"Hmm. I wouldn't be so sure, Travis. He's a lot more open minded than his reputation suggests. He might come around to it, given the right amount of prodding," Hess argued.

"Never."

"Care to wager a bet, Ensign?"

"Absolutely. Terms?"

"I have until the Enterprise is hauled back to Earth to win. Loser has to tell Commander Tucker what a nice ass he has."

Travis laughed. "I hadn't noticed. But since I know Lieutenant Reed, I just hope you feel comfortable complimenting your CO's ass."

Hess shrugged. "I'd just like to see that ass again. I rather miss it." She grinned. "And the body that's attached to it."

"I'll agree with you on the second part of that statement," Travis agreed.


	27. The Heart Grows Fonder

In sickbay, Trip continued to dream.

She stood before him, completely and utterly naked.

"T'Pol?" he questioned.

"The Captain tells me you specified that I was not to be wearing any silk. I have complied."

"So, you're the one who's gonna save my life, huh?"

"Indeed. Would you prefer someone else?"

"Nope."

"Then I believe you are wasting valuable time. The lifesaving experience may be a prolonged one."

* * *

T'Lal, science officer serving under Captain Vanik, took a preliminary glance around sickbay and then turned back towards the decon chamber. When Ventik had explained the situation to her, the highest ranking female on the Vulcan ship, she had volunteered immediately. There was no need to alert others. T'Lal would do what others before her had done in order to save a life. She wondered idly what the human Captain thought of the whole situation. If the myths about humans and the importance they assigned to 'emotional' sexual situations were remotely true, she was certain he found it hard to understand.

Although she was honored to perform the duty for her people, she had been a bit confused when presented with the human. Given his current health status, she was uncertain how the mating process would be achieved. She was willing, however, to make the attempt. They had insisted upon the decon chamber for the event to take place. It was a logical choice. Moving Commander Tucker to his quarters would arouse suspicion. In the chamber, they could be concealed, in the event anyone else on Enterprise would need the sickbay facilities.

"The facilities are ready, Sub-Commander," Phlox noted, emerging from the chamber. He had insisted on making it more comfortable for them. T'Lal reminded him it was unnecessary. Phlox reminded her that Commander Tucker was a human. Extraordinary as the situation was for a human to be enduring.

T'Lal simply nodded her reply to Doctor Phlox, picked up the human and walked into the decon chamber.

She laid him on the makeshift bed Phlox had prepared. As she began to undress, her scientific mind carefully took in the scene before her.

The human trembled and murmured incoherently. His sweat was also pervasive. The dreams and bouts of unconsciousness were rare in Vulcan culture, but they occasionally occurred. Such instances were found either in extremely young Vulcans-those undergoing their first pon far-or extremely elderly Vulcans. In either case, the symptoms were simply manifestations of the body's inability to handle the demands pon far had suddenly thrust upon them. It made perfect sense that the human would be experiencing such sensations. His body had no reason to adjust to pon far. He was not a Vulcan.

If she were human, T'Lal would have felt pity for his state. Being Vulcan, however, she reflected that his state would only become more uncomfortable as he entered the plak tow. It was fortunate for him that she was here now.

Kneeling beside the human, she began the act of undressing him as well.

* * *

"I must stop now, Trip."

"Please do not."

"I must."

"No, don't go."

* * *

The T'Pol of his dreams did not listen. Trip slowly became aware of someone else's hands on his body. Glancing up, he became aware of a Vulcan female. A very naked Vulcan female.

One that was definitely not T'Pol.

"Who...what are ya doin'?" he questioned, struggling to sit up.

"I am Sub-Commander T'Lal," she stated.

_Right rank, wrong name,_ Trip thought to himself. He found himself struggling to maintain concentration enough to put the words he needed together to form the most basic of sentences. "I am Commander...Charles...Tucker...III," he finally managed.

"I am aware of that," the Vulcan in front of him replied.

_Well, I certainly hope so, considering you're sitting in front of me naked and trying to get me in the same position,_ Trip mused. "Why are you...undressing...me?" he asked.

"You need to mate. You will die if you do not," T'Lal replied.

"Why...you?"

T'Lal paused, looking for a way of explaining to the human without further revealing her people's secrets. "It is a Vulcan condition," she replied. "It was deemed best for a Vulcan to be the one to assist you."

_T'Pol is a Vulcan,_ Trip's fevered brain replied. To T'Lal he phrased it differently. "But why _you_?"

T'Lal pondered the meaning of that for a moment. "I am a Vulcan," she stated. "The highest ranking one available."

"No you...aren't," Trip replied stubbornly.

"Is there a specific sexual partner you desire?" T'Lal asked.

_Yeah, but if she was willing, she'd be here already,_ came the reply. "No...fraternization's...against the rules," he struggled.

"Then I suggest we continue. If you begin the next stage of the illness, you will experience unnecessary discomfort."

"Ya mean more than I am already?"

"Indeed."

Trip swallowed, wishing desperately for a glass of water. "Ya sure...you're okay?" he questioned. He was attempting, with limited success, to make sure T'Lal wanted to do this.

T'Lal arched an eyebrow at that, making Trip realize how much he missed _his_ Vulcan. "It is logical."

Trip laughed. T'Lal wondered momentarily if he were becoming delirious. "Sex with...someone ya don't...even know? How...logical?" he questioned.

"If we do not, you will die," she repeated. Why was this so difficult for the human to understand? "Do you wish to die?"

"No," Trip responded.

"Then we must mate."

Generally speaking, Trip wasn't the one night stand kind of guy. Even with Kaitaama, he had known something of her past, what made her tick. He knew nothing of T'Lal. But it was growing increasingly difficult to maintain concentration, and Trip was fairly certain this moment of awareness was about to end.

Trip did not wish to die. He was certain, however, that the disease plaguing his body was very capable of that. Even if it didn't kill him, at the very least, it would cause him to permanently lose his sense of reality. Trip didn't want that. He wanted to go back to work. He wanted his engines. He wanted his friends back. He wanted to see his family again. He wanted dinner at the Captain's table. He wanted a chance to tell T'Pol what he should have realized sooner.

In the end, self preservation won over self dignity.

"Okay," Trip replied. "Any. .. anything I should know...about...how...how ta. . ?" he left his question hanging, hoping she caught his drift.

"Are you a virgin?" T'Lal inquired, completing missing his point.

"No," Trip replied. "B-but...never...with a V-Vulcan," he managed, struggling to hold on to the last remaining threads of his concentration. It was leaving him.

"Our mating process is essentially the same," T'Lal replied. With a slight pause, she added, "It would be appreciated if you would pay attention to the ears."

As Trip began to trace the outline of her ears, he noticed that she shared T'Pol's tendency for understatement. _Must be a Vulcan trait,_ he noted.

As she reached for him, Trip wondered why T'Pol had not found his life worth saving

* * *

Aboard the T'Lar, T'Pol waited for Soval and contemplated the conversation that would be taking place. _Difficult may prove to be an understatement,_ she noted to herself.

Since Skon had left, she had tried to attempt meditation. She had achieved the state once, in the preceding eight hours. The meditation had helped her head pain immensely. Unfortunately, she was beginning to experience the onset of head pain once again. She could only hope that their conversation would be brief.

That was unlikely. It was entirely more reasonable to expect that she would have to have Sumarek force Soval out of her quarters.

The sound of her door chime announced the arrival of both. "Enter," T'Pol responded.

The door opened to reveal both occupants of her thoughts. Sumarek spoke first, briefly and to the point. "I will be waiting in the corridor, Sub-Commander."

"Thank you, Constable," she replied.

When he was gone, T'Pol gestured to the table where their food sat. "Dinner is prepared. Please sit," she said to Soval.

The other Vulcan said nothing as he took his seat. Once they were both seated, he looked at the food she had prepared and remarked, "You have prepared human cuisine."

"We have salad on Vulcan as well," she replied.

"It does not contain... _lettuce_ ," Soval remarked. He looked towards the offending vegetable placed in front of him with the same amount of disdain as one would afford to being served with rat poison.

"You do not have to consume the dish. I have also prepared plomeek soup," T'Pol replied.

"Does it contain human substitutes as well?" Soval inquired.

T'Pol was suddenly overcome with the urge to tell him it contained a meat product. She recognized the urge as a demonstration of sarcasm. Another trait for which she would blame Commander Tucker.

"It does not," she replied.

Picking up his spoon, Soval tasted the soup with some visible trepidation.

T'Pol blamed her illness for the irritation his demonstration stirred, but she said nothing. After a moment, he remarked, "It contains a considerable amount of pepper." The unspoken comment being that this was not a Vulcan dish either.

"My duties on board the Enterprise have prevented me from concentrating on my cooking skills," T'Pol rejoined. "Perhaps my return to Vulcan shall improve them."

Soval continued to eat his plomeek soup, for all that he insisted he did not enjoy it.

They continued to eat in silence until Soval spoke again. "Skon informs me that you are ill. Is that the reason you are returning to Vulcan?"

"Is there any other logical reason you could think of?" T'Pol responded.

"It is feasible that you would return to serve as a character witness in my trial," Soval replied. He gingerly took a drink of his water, as though expecting it to be contaminated with human material as well. T'Pol found herself wishing she had served him iced tea.

"It is feasible, but not likely," T'Pol answered. "Have you not done what they have accused you of?"

"Yes," Soval responded. There was no need to deny what medical evidence would show to be true. "However, the peace conference was at stake."

"The conference was at stake because of your actions," came T'Pol's reply.

"Are you going to share the nature of your illness or shall I discover it in the same manner as I discovered your Pa'Nar Syndrome?" Soval asked.

T'Pol mentally bristled. "I saw no reason to inform you of the illness. Given your rank, I assumed you would hear of it eventually."

"And if your assumption had proven to be false?" Soval demanded.

"Then you would have been spared knowing of the stigma I had brought upon our family," she replied, taking a purposeful bite of her salad. The lettuce made a pleasantly loud crunch. In the strained quiet of T'Pol's quarters, it was as noticeable as the sound of a bone breaking.

"The reports claim you had been forced," Soval remarked, taking an equally deliberate drink of his water. "Is that true?"

"I was not a willing participant," she answered.

"Then you have brought no stigma upon our family or our heritage." Soval's voice was an octave higher than it typically was. This was Soval's way of showing concern. It frequently confused the humans, who could not understand the difference between Soval's demonstrations of concern and his demonstrations of anger.

_Yet another trait the humans and I have in common,_ T'Pol thought morosely. "It is agreeable to know that you believe so," she responded.

"You have accessed the Pa'Nar treatment?" Soval inquired.

"Indeed," T'Pol responded. She was pleased to discover that carrots made an even louder crunch than lettuce.

"Then I assume it is not the Pa'Nar Syndrome which is driving you back to Vulcan?" Soval asked.

"The treatments for the Pa'Nar Syndrome are not proceeding as we had believed they would. Nonetheless, the Pa'Nar Syndrome is not why I am returning to Vulcan."

"What is your reason?" Soval asked. "You are behaving most illogically by refusing to tell me."

"I was returning to take part in the mandatory Reflection Ceremony and prepare to die, as is the custom of our people." she replied.

"Death is imminent?" Soval asked. Again, his voice raised an octave. If T'Pol's illness had not been affecting her ability to notice detail, she would have detected two octaves.

"I had believed so. When Tolaris initiated the mind meld, he initiated a mating bond. Such a meld has to be reciprocated. I did not reciprocate the meld. Eventually, the medial insula, the portion of the brain which evidentially controls melding actions, will swell to such proportions that I shall die as a result."

At such news, Soval sat his spoon down, leaned back in his chair and took a moment to simply observe T'Pol. True to Vulcan nature, his face refused to reveal the concern he had for her. "You indicated your return in the past tense. Why?"

"Captain Skon and Lady T'Pau have found a suitable bondmate with whom I shall marry, and complete the bond."

Both of Soval's eyebrows arched at the news. "To whom are you to wed?" he asked finally.

"Sopel. He is an Anthropologist," T'Pol answered.

"He is also a lower level prince," Skon remarked. "Such a match pleases me. It shall please your mother as well."

"Mother is rarely concerned with such events," T'Pol responded. Indeed, it had not been her mother who had written such a scathing letter to T'Pol after she had broken off the engagement with Koss.

"Indeed. I had believed you to be unwilling to take a mate at this time," Soval questioned.

"He is a Melder. He has Pa'Nar Syndrome. I need to initiate the bond. Otherwise, I shall die. It was logical."

"Commander Tucker was not willing to engage in such a meld?" Soval inquired.

It took all of T'Pol's Vulcan training to control herself when she responded. "Commander Tucker is irrelevant to this conversation."

"I do not believe so."

"Then you are mistaken."

"Why then do you dream of having his children when you heretofore have shown no desire to even marry a Vulcan male?" Soval questioned. "Indeed, you have turned down a perfectly good match for emotional, personal reasons."

"How do you presume to know what I dream about?" T'Pol demanded. It could be argued that her voice lacked the calm emotionless demeanor she normally possessed.

"On the Enterprise, after you collapsed in the landing bay, I came to see you in sickbay. You talk in your sleep when you dream. The details left no doubt of the inappropriate nature of your relationship with Commander Tucker."

"Commander Tucker is my colleague, nothing more."

"I believe David began as your colleague as well, did he not?" Soval pointed out.

T'Pol mentally winced. The memory, having occurred over three decades ago, was still a vivid one. Soval was correct, of course, in that David had been her colleague. A brilliant scientist she had met on her very first visit to Earth. T'Pol had been younger then, and as such did not have the prejudices the majority of her people seemed to share against humans. "As I have told you before, David has no place in this conversation."

"I believe he does."

"You are mistaken. It is illogical to keep referring to an event which occurred years ago."

"Has your character changed that much since your first inappropriate relationship with a human that there is reason I should not believe you would commit the same mistake?"

The headache T'Pol had known would come came back in full force. Perhaps she was growing delusional, T'Pol reflected, but it felt as though each reoccurrence saw a more painful head discomfort. "When I first met David, I was unaccustomed to the emotions of humans...I did not know that they are driven primarily by curiosity." _I had no reason to believe one would engage in a romantic relationship out of curiosity alone. Nor did I have any reason to believe the relationship would end once the curiosity had been satisfied._ "My experience with David taught me that well. I have learned from the mistake and have no more intention of repeating it than I would attempt to once again feed a wild sehlat."

She was referring to an incident that had occurred when she was a child. Soval remembered the incident well. The result had left no doubt in Soval's mind that Vulcans were capable of feeling fear. He remembered, momentarily, the feeling of helplessness as he had carried his daughter to a the nearest healer, unable to stop the tide of green liquid gushing from her five year old body. Soval did not appreciate feeling helpless. "I believe I warned you about that as well. You have always been a stubborn child."

T'Pol looked up from her soup and held his gaze steadily before replying, "It is a trait I share." She then switched cuisines, taking another very deliberate bit of her lettuce.

Soval reflected that it was a trait she shared with her mother, but chose not to point this out. "You still have scars from the incident?"

"Indeed."

"Good. Scars serve the logical purpose of being permanent reminders of our mistakes. Their presence is frequently a prevention of repeating the same mistake multiple times."

"Then rest assured, I bear scars from my time with David as well."

Soval looked up with surprise at that. He momentarily thought of chastising her for such an emotional display. Remembering her illness, he chose to overlook it. "Contrary to what you possibly believe, that does not please me. However, if it prevents you from engaging in yet _another_ improper relationship with a human, then I appreciate their presence."

They finished their meal without further discussion, for which T'Pol was grateful. When his food was consumed, Soval spoke again. "It is unfortunate that Skon is the one to arrange your wedding." "You are unavailable to do so and mother is currently doing research on Earth, as you well know." T'Pol responded.

"Lady T'Pau could not have arranged it?"

"Captain Skon is a well revered member of our society," T'Pol answered. "You are allowing your personal prejudices against him to color your perception of reality. I am honored to have him arrange my union."

"Apparently more honored than you were by your parent's arrangement of your union, as you chose to sever that engagement," Soval responded.

"Would you prefer I chose death?" T'Pol asked. If she had not been ill, and if she had been able to meditate successfully, and if her emotions were not threatening to overwhelm her, perhaps she would have demonstrated more patience towards Soval.

"No, I would not," Soval, not being ill, able to mediate successful, and not having his emotions threatening to overwhelm him, was able to have the patience T'Pol did not possess.

"Then you should be grateful. It is unfortunate you shall not be able to attend the ceremony of my union."

"Indeed."

They were interrupted at that moment by the presence of Sumarek entering T'Pol's quarters. "It is time to go, Soval," he informed the former Ambassador.

"I will be ready momentarily," Soval responded.

Sumarek shook his head. "We must go now. Captain Skon specified that you were to be given no longer than sixty minutes."

T'Pol mentally blessed Captain Skon, his ancestors, and his descendents for his foresight. Amazing that he could know both her and her father so well.

Soval looked for a moment as though he were ready to disagree, but apparently changed his mind. Rising, he said to T'Pol, "Live long and prosper, T'Pol. May your union be successful."

T'Pol returned the gesture and watched him leave. Sitting back down on her bed once he had left, she reflected how much she had grown fond of the human tradition of dessert. It served no logical purpose, as one was usually full by the time the last course was served. Yet, she noticed its absence considerably.

* * *

"Your lack of presence has been considerably noticeable, David."

"You missed me, huh?"

"Indeed. I do not wish to repeat the experience."

"Ah, but T'Pol, haven't you heard? Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

* * *

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. She had dismissed the phrase as yet another example of the human irrationalism. Yet, sitting here now, alone and away from the Enterprise, she realized its truthfulness. The affection she had started to form for her humans she had been able to deny while she was on the Enterprise. _I claimed to stay with them because they needed logic to guide their impulsiveness. Even in my letter to Koss, I cited that as my reason._

Watching the stars twinkling back at her, T'Pol faced the truth. She had appreciated her time on the Enterprise for reasons having nothing to do with logic. _If I were human, I would use the verb enjoyed,_ T'Pol noted to herself.

She walked over to the small desk and picked up the photograph of the Enterprise crew. Glancing at each face, she mentally took stock of what each of them were most likely doing at this time.

Captain Archer had most likely just completed his evening meal. Perhaps with V'Lar and Shran, as he was still in the midst of a peace conference. To her surprise, he was becoming an able diplomat. Much better than his gazelle speech had foreshadowed.

The beagle was no doubt sleeping faithfully at the foot of his master's bed, waiting for him to return.

Lieutenant Reed was most likely in the gym, exercising to stay in the shape that his job demanded. Perhaps he was even practicing the martial arts skills she had taught him.

Ensign Sato would be engaging in the human custom of socializing. Most likely her partners would include Lieutenant Hess and Crewman Cutler.

Ensign Mayweather would likely be in the so-called sweet spot. He was convinced no one knew about the location except for Commander Tucker. He underestimated the thoroughness of a Vulcan first officer in knowing the whereabouts of her crew.

Commander Tucker. He was most likely still in the brig. When they arrived back to Vulcan, she would send a communication back to the ship to find out. Not knowing the nature of Soval's illness, they could not have known that it was very likely Soval had provoked Commander Tucker.

Illogically, absence had made her heart grow the fondest of seeing him again. Soval's words came back to her. "...If it prevents you from engaging in yet _another_ improper relationship with a human, then I appreciate their presence."

Soval seemed to believe her the disastrous end of her relationship with David was the only reason she had not engaged in what he deemed to be an inappropriate relationship with Commander Tucker. T'Pol believed him to be incorrect in his assumption. Surely, she did not have such sentiments. Commander Tucker was as curious as David had been and as wild as the sehlat she had tried unsuccessfully to tame. Having affection towards him would be as detrimental as both of her previous experiences had been. She was certain.

And yet...

It was undeniable that Commander Tucker's absence was the most noticeable.

When she could sleep, he often visited her dreams. When she was awake, multiple instances caused her to remember his existence. Her ears would itch, and she would hear his distinct voice say, "Good Ears." She had unpacked her clothing and been in the process of laying her undergarments in her dresser, when she distinctly remembered, "Just because a guy's in his underwear, you assume the worst."

_Commander Tucker was frequently at his worst when in his underwear. Particularly around alien females,_ T'Pol remembered. _It should not matter, of course. His mating habits are his own. But he may well cause a diplomatic incident one day in his haste to procreate._

Proving, of course, his likeliness to David.

_Why do I compare them? David was a romantic involvement...Commander Tucker is my colleague._

As if to be her undoing, images of the past two weeks came back to her. Commander Tucker and herself in the Mess Hall, the extra concern he had taken to insure he would not be in her presence to insure her good health, and finally the results of her science experiment.

Jealousy and Desire. Those were the emotions that triggered her illness. They were most noticeable around Commander Tucker.

_Soval was correct,_ T'Pol realized. _I have developed an affection for Commander Tucker after all._

T'Pol thought of her younger self and the ease with which she had accepted the relationship with her human then. Years later, such a minor concession proved difficult. Reflecting over the time she had served with Commander Tucker, she realized the pure physical attraction that she had noticed the first moment she stepped into the decon chamber with the man. With time, his intelligence and loyalty became noticeable as well.

Loyalty. _That makes him considerably different from David, doesn't it?_ A voice inside her head taunted T'Pol. Though she urged it to stop, it continued mercilessly. _Commander Tucker is entirely different from David. They share only the same color of hair._

Her realization had come too late, T'Pol realized. If she had allowed herself to recognize the truth earlier, perhaps...perhaps things could have been different. Perhaps she could have discovered the true depth of Commander Tucker's feelings for her. She was certain he felt some amount of attraction. It was only the depth that needed to be uncovered.

_I wonder if humans can engage in the mating bond,_ T'Pol wondered silently.

Irrationally, she again heard his voice. "The regulations don't apply to you. Have you been...sufferin'?"

In the quiet of her quarters, T'Pol responded with a mental, "Yes."

As she undressed to prepare for sleep, T'Pol found herself wondering how different things could have been if her younger self had met Commander Tucker before she had met David. _The result would have been that I would not have spent the past two years punishing both Commander Tucker and myself for actions committed by someone else._

T'Pol ran her fingers lightly across the sehlat scars which graced her upper arms before slipping into her night clothes.


	28. The Calm Before The Storm

T'Lal rolled off Commander Tucker with as little force as possible. They had completed their tenth round of copulation.

"T"Lal?" Trip ventured.

"Yes?" T'Lal inquired. She had not been certain that Commander Tucker had remembered her name at all. He had, after all, insisted on calling her by another name for the duration of the process.

"I'm sorry," Trip offered.

Had T'Lal been human, she would have acknowledged feeling surprise at his statement. "For what reason do you offer an apology?" she asked.

"I haven't...attended to your...um, needs," Trip said remorsefully.

T'Lal furrowed her brows together and contemplated that perhaps they should have chosen T'Pal for this duty. T'Pal was an anthropologist. She surely would have had much better luck in understanding the human's emotional whims.

"I am uncertain as to what you are alluding to, Commander Tucker," T'Lal stated truthfully.

If possible, T'Lal's statement had caused the Commander to redden even darker than he currently was. "I haven't felt quite up to...um, makin' sure ya...um.. . "

"Making sure I what, Commander Tucker?"

Trip sighed and wondered if, in fact, the woman lying next to him was being facetious. "Makin' sure ya . . ya know, enjoy yourself." As soon as he said it, he gave an inward sigh, knowing she would tell him that Vulcans do not experience enjoyment.

He wasn't disappointed. "Enjoyment is an emotion, Commander Tucker. I am certain you are aware that Vulcans do not experience emotions."

Trip suddenly felt very tired. Perhaps it was the marathon mating sessions. But more likely, it was this conversation. "Don't Vulcans have orgasms?" he asked, frustrated.

T'Lal arched an eyebrow at that. "Orgasmic release by the female is not necessary to Vulcan procreation," she stated simply.

"Then why did ya want me to pay attention to the ears?" Trip demanded.

"Ears are erogenous zones amongst Vulcans. By rubbing them, you release certain hormones which in turn stimulant the release of vaginal fluid. Considering the nature of our actions, it would be considerably more—"

"Please stop," Trip muttered. "My head already hurts. By the way, when will that go away?"

T'Lal furrowed her brows again. "I am uncertain when your discomfort shall cease. However, you are much more coherent than you were when I entered the chamber. That is a beneficial development." She did not add that his headache should have been relieved by now. "You require sustenance, for the next round. I shall obtain it. In the meantime, you should try to sleep. It is most likely that you will need to copulate again in one hour, thirty-four minutes and twenty four point two seconds."

Trip nodded and reached for his skivvies.

"It is illogical of you to redress yourself, Commander," T'Lal pointed out. "We will need to copulate again."

Trip shrugged. "But ya said I had an hour and a half left. I can't just sit here naked until then."

T'Lal noted again the illogic of humans as she began to dress herself. "Very well, Commander." Before she left, she turned and noted, "You were barely able to respond physically during the early stages of our copulation, Commander. While you have recovered somewhat, you remain quite ill. There is no reason to feel you have failed in your role in any way."

* * *

Elsewhere on the Enterprise, a very remorseful Malcolm Reed was making his way to quarters which had once belonged Sub-Commander T'Pol and were currently the temporary quarters of Hoshi Sato.

Standing outside her quarters, Malcolm hesitated only slightly before straightening his shoulders, lifting his head, and ringing the chime. _Prepping for battle, Reed?_ he chastised himself.

"Come," Hoshi's cheerful voice. Such a pleasant, and friendly voice. One that Malcolm had definitely missed.

When he walked in, he was relieved to find her alone. He had half expected her to be in the company of someone else-Hess, Cutler, Thomas from engineering. Not that he would have blamed them. After all, Hoshi was just someone that you wanted to spend time with. _I certainly do, at any rate,_ he lamented. "Hello, Hoshi," he greeted softly.

Hoshi visibly tensed slightly at Malcolm's presence. "Greetings, Lieutenant," she said coolly. "What brings you here at such an hour? I do hope you were careful. After all, it wouldn't due for anyone to see a lieutenant coming into the quarters of an Ensign so early in the morning."

Malcolm sighed. _I suppose I deserved that,_ he acknowledged quietly. It was quite evident that Hoshi had no intention of making this easy on him. "Hoshi, I know you aren't pleased with me," he said. "And I don't blame you. I treated you rather atrociously when you where trying to show you cared for me." He paused. "I'm truly sorry."

Hoshi bit her lip for a moment before answering. "It's okay, Malcolm," she said finally. "You don't have to apologize. If anything, I should apologize for the way I behaved at lunch yesterday. I know it probably made you uncomfortable." She gave a small smirk. "Especially with the way you value protocol."

Malcolm was relieved to notice the lack of malice in her tone. Certainly a change from the day before. "I would have preferred we had the conversation in a bit more private atmosphere," he admitted. "However, I do understand your reasoning."

Hoshi immediately became extremely fixated on her hands. "No, I'm not sure you do," she murmured.

"Then perhaps you should explain it to me, Hoshi," Malcolm offered gently.

The tenderness used in his tone induced a slight shiver down Hoshi's spine. "Well, I wasn't really that upset until after T'Pol left...and I started thinking about what she'd left behind..."

"Trip?" Malcolm asked softly.

Hoshi glanced up once, briefly, before returning her glance to her fingers, clasped tightly in her lap. "Yes," she continued softly. "And I'm not certain why T'Pol left, but Trip's sick and we don't know what's wrong, exactly. But either way-they're permanently separated. I just thought...of all the time they had wasted that they could have spent together. And, well, I didn't want to be in the same position some day, wishing I'd told you how I felt about you, when I still had the chance." She paused before adding, "I am...quite attracted to you, Malcolm," she said, in barely a whisper.

Malcolm swallowed and closed his eyes as the familiar battle raged within. Finally, he closed the distance between them in two short steps. Tilting her head up towards his face, he remarked simply, "As I am to you, Hoshi." He was rewarded with what had to be the most beautiful smile in the universe. At least to Malcolm. "Now, I believe breakfast and Captain Archer are waiting on us."

* * *

It was a brief journey from Vulcan Security Head Quarters to the home of Skon. T'Pol was certain they could have walked, yet Skon insisted on taking a sand runner. T'Pol acknowledged his elderly age and acquiesced.

"I have not had the opportunity to inquire, T'Pol," Skon remarked, "Did Soval handle the news of your upcoming nuptials in a logical manner?"

"He responded more logically than either of us expected," T'Pol answered. "Do you believe he will be found guilty of the crime of which he is accused?"

Skon tilted his head to the left in contemplation. "I believe his punishment shall be insignificant. He most likely shall have his Ambassador title revoked for a specified amount of time. However, the evidence is compelling"

"What type of evidence exists?" T'Pol inquired.

"T"Pau ran an extensive neurological and physiological scan of Soval while we were on board the Enterprise. It showed his body to be experiencing the same symptoms as someone who had only recently been purged of his illness," Skon replied.

T'Pol furrowed her brows slightly. "There will be no witnesses?" she asked.

"No. According to the scans, the purging would have taken place on the human ship. Thus, the witness would have been out of our jurisdiction," Skon supplied.

"A human? Is he to stand trial for rape as well?" Again, T'Pol felt pangs of possessiveness at the thought that someone had potentially damaged someone in her crew.

"There is no reason to believe the act was non-consensual," Skon answered. "If you learn otherwise when you return to your ship, you will let us know?"

"Yes, of course."

There conversation ended abruptly as the sand runner came to a halt in front of the house of Skon.

As they walked up the stone path that led to the home of Skon, T'Pol took in the surroundings and remembered distinctly the voice of Commander Tucker asking, "Is Vulcan grass green?" The memory induced a painful increase in her headache, so powerful in intensity that it temporarily blinded her. Fortunately, she had Skon's firm arm holding her upright.

"I am gratified by your assistance," she told him. "I should be able to continue unaided."

Skon nodded, and released his grip on her arm. As they entered the home, Skon showed her to the guest bedroom and supplied, "My wife is currently teaching. She shall return in approximately three point six hours to engage in the afternoon meal."

T'Pol nodded. "I wish to extend my appreciation to both you and your wife for allowing me to reside at your home for the duration of my stay on Vulcan."

"I am informed your mother is conducting research on Earth at the present time," Skon remarked. "With your father under investigation, you would have been alone had you stayed at your family's estate. Given your condition, that would be most unwise."

"Logical," T'Pol agreed. "Are you certain as to when Sopel shall arrive?"

"He has left Andoria. He shall arrive in approximately ninety-six hours," Skon replied. When T'Pol said nothing further, he continued, "Are your certain you wish to go through with the arrangement, T'Pol? The wedding has not been announced yet. Once it does, you are aware you will not be able to withdraw from the arrangement, as you did with Koss."

T'Pol knew this well. Her wedding was being overseen by Skon and involved her marrying a prince. It was much different from a scientist scorning an architect. Illogical, but true. "I am aware of that. As I have stated before, I see no other option."

"Very well. You indicated a desire to communicate with your ship. Do you wish to do so now?" Skon asked.

"No. The Captain most likely is currently engaged in breakfast. I shall wait until he is on duty," T'Pol answered. She would need to speak to the Captain, of course, to alert him that Soval had most likely provoked Commander Tucker. As such, the human could not be responsible for his behavior. T'Pol was not displeased with her father. After all, T'Pol knew-as every Vulcan did-that Soval's temperament during the time of pon far was not one he could have controlled. He would not have provoked Commander Tucker under normal circumstances, T'Pol reasoned.

Skon promptly handed her a PADD. "Since you have time, perhaps you will wish to acquaint yourself with the information found within this document," he said.

T'Pol briefly scanned the contents. "A history of mind melding?" she inquired.

"Yes," Skon replied. "Both a history and a detailed explanation of what to expect. I realize you have been on the receiving end of the meld previously. However, you shall be reciprocating the meld with Sopel. There are some subtle-and some not so subtle- differences in the experiences. I assume you would want to be prepared."

"Again, I express gratefulness," T'Pol told him. Privately, she had been experiencing some anxiety on the upcoming melding event.

"I shall take my leave of you, unless there is anything else you require," Skon asked.

"No," T'Pol replied.

"Then may your reading be productive," Skon answered.

T'Pol sat down on the bed and began to read, with a good deal of interest, about Selak, the fallen follower of Surak.


	29. Gathering Clouds

An hour and a half later, T'Pol sat the PADD down on the bed beside her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breathe and exhaled slowly. She had tried, in vain, to meditate prior to departing the T'Lar earlier in the morning. As she was unable to meditate, her headache was now a constant. The concentration required to read the documents had, in fact, increased the discomfort.

Nonetheless, the exercise had been a beneficial one. According to the documents found herein, melding was becoming a steadily increasing practice amongst her people. It was estimated that approximately twenty-seven percent of the total population had engaged in melding practices. While still a relatively small number, it was certainly more than T'Pol had previously believed. Further, the history was utterly fascinating. Prior to the time of Surak, mind melds were non-existent on Vulcan-a fact which was most fortunate, given the violent nature of Vulcans at the time. The Revolution's embracement of logic had saw an increase in mind capabilities. Selak, devoted disciple of Surak, had "discovered" the process of melding and introduced it to the Vulcan public while he was still very young. For over two hundred years, the custom had been a treasured practice amongst T'Pol's people. As he reached old age, however, Selak abandoned several tenets of Surak's teaching. He took multiple wives as well as concubines; he reportedly partook of animal flesh; and he flaunted his lapses in meditation.

Most intriguingly, Selak was forgiven for these lapses. It had not been hard for T'Pol to realize why. After all, Selak was a name learned in school alongside that of Surak, and with good reason. Whereas Surak sought to use logic as a means of pacification to bring their people out of the violent stage they were in, Selak had advocated for using logic to further the development of Vulcan culture and had indeed founded the Vulcan Science Directorate. Thus, his lapses were overlooked. It was typical that Vulcans lost a certain amount of their logical processes as they neared the end of life. Surely, that had been affecting Selak and was the reason for his behavior.

At least, that's what the Vulcans of the time believed. Then came the unfortunate incident with the Prince. This was not one taught in Vulcan educational systems. Instead, Vulcans were taught to believe that melds were inappropriate because of the emotional involvement they represented.

_Is it feasible?_ T'Pol wondered. _Pon far is not communicable. To proclaim that one could induce a biological function of mating through telepathic means is ridiculous._ Yet, T'Pol realized, she herself could not deny the intriguing potential intensity of a meld, having experienced such a sensation with Tolaris.

Involuntarily, T'Pol shuddered slightly at the remembrance of the event. _Control, T'Pol,_ she scolded herself. _That event happened over a year ago._ Regardless of the time that had passed, however, T'Pol clearly still recalled the strength of Tolaris' emotions overwhelming her. Again, T'Pol felt the urge to shudder. Instead, she stood and began to walk down the hall to Skon's den. Now was not the time to contemplate events wrought with such emotion. Undoubtedly, her condition would place her health in jeopardy if she were to do so.

The door to Skon's den was open. He glanced up the moment she appeared in the doorway. "T'Pol," he greeted. "Are you ready to send your message to your ship?"

"Yes," she stated simply.

"What manner of communication do you wish to send?" Skon inquired.

"It is a timely matter," she answered.

Skon nodded once. "Come, then, we shall need to use the communication devices at High Command." Seeing T'Pol bristle-a lapse no doubt due to her illness-he added, "Officially you are here to perform the marital ceremony, T'Pol. You are still a representative of High Command on the Enterprise. No doubt they shall see the logic in having you...monitor the humans while they are out of sight."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at her former Captain in a gesture of amusement. "Flawlessly logical. I assume you have contacted Sopel's parents, then?"

"Indeed. The announcement has been made. You shall wed to the house of Tulak," Skon remarked.

T'Pol felt a momentary lapse of grief Reminding herself of the logic of the situation, she pushed it away. "That is most agreeable," she conceded to Skon.

They walked in silence to the sand runner.

Once safely inside, Skon inquired, "I trust your reading was productive?"

"Indeed. I found the historical sections most interesting. I am somewhat curious, however, as to why the incident with the Prince Sokar is not mentioned in typical historical texts," T'Pol answered.

"Although Selak's actions were decidedly unpleasant, they were the actions of a solitary Vulcan. Our ancestors permitted his actions to undermine centuries worth of intriguing medical and scientific advancements. The people of Selak's time could still recall the conditions of pre-Revolution Vulcan society. In Selak's actions, they saw a potential return to such times."

"They panicked," T'Pol supplied.

"They experienced fear," Skon corrected. "A quite understandable response, given their history. Regardless, in the effort to banish melders, some members of our society spoke of the illogic of such actions. As a result, the Vulcans in favor of abolishing melding raised concern over the practice of 'sharing emotions' they believed to occur in melds."

"From my experience, that has been true," T'Pol contended.

Skon gave her a brief look. "Your experience was unfortunate."

"Indeed. However, I would be interested in knowing some of the 'logical' benefits of melding," T'Pol answered.

Skon paused only momentarily before answering. "My wife, T'Pau, and I shall be holding a meeting of melders tonight after the evening meal. Perhaps you would like to attend. You may find the answers to the questions you seek there."

"I shall attend," T'Pol agreed. "It would be most wise to ascertain as much information about the process before Sopel's arrival."

"You have been unexpectedly tolerant in your acceptance of the account of Selak," Skon commented.

"I did discount the tale as fiction at first," T'Pol admitted. "Since then, I have reversed my position."

"For what reason?"

"The phenomenon of pon far," T'Pol explained. "It has long been documented that the non-affected partner will begin to experience the symptoms of the condition after beginning to mate. This is without any melding taking place. Although I do not understand the scientific aspects of melding fully, nor do I completely comprehend the scientific reasoning for the biological reactions amongst mates, I deduce that in both cases, there is a certain amount of telepathy involved."

"Such has been the conjecture amongst recent scientific circles. It is my personal belief that they are the same phenomenon, only in differing magnitudes. Presumably, the lighter the touch, the less damaging the result. If Sokar had engaged in minimal mind touching, the transference would not have been complete." Skon answered.

"My only area of concern then, is why Prince Sokar did not simply mate," T'Pol told him.

"He did," Skon replied. "Copulation did not cease his condition. He continued to experience the condition until the imbalance of bodily functions caused his death."

"I do not understand," T'Pol asked, confused. "If he indeed mated, then why did the pon far not cease?"

"That is a question for which I do not have an answer. However, it has been hypothesized that part of the blame lies in the fact that the wife of Prince Sokar was one of the few Vulcans who displayed no signs of telepathic ability. At the time it was extremely rare. For this reason, Sokar's regularly scheduled pon fars were longer than are the norm. Unlike most Vulcans, Sokar was unable to share the intensity of his condition," Skon informed her.

"A condition which would have been greatly magnified by the method in which it was contracted," T'Pol finished.

"Indeed. It is possible, although not certain, that if Sokar had been with a telepathic Vulcan, the end result would not have been death."

T'Pol paused, in yet another effort to control the increasing amount of pain coursing through her head. "Have there been additional documented cases of such transference, since that event?" she asked.

"No. Melds, as you are aware, are stigmatized in our culture. However, there have been unsubstantiated reports amongst us that even the lightest touch in the proximity of the face has induced pon far symptoms. Presumably, Sokar's case was fatal because it involved a full meld." Skon stopped, as they had arrived at their destination.

They walked quietly up the steps into High Command Head Quarters. Alone in her thoughts, T'Pol realized it had been over two years since she had last been here. Understandably, she had to suppress a small surge of anxiety.

A tall, professional male Vulcan greeted them. The epitome of poise, he no doubt was in control of his emotions-something T'Pol envied him greatly for. "Captain Skon, Sub-Commander T'Pol," he greeted.

"I must send a message to the Enterprise," T'Pol informed him.

He nodded once. "I shall escort you to a communications terminal."

"I shall await you, T'Pol," Skon promised.

* * *

On the Enterprise, Captain Archer sat wearily in his chair. It was, quite possibly, the last place he wanted to be. Although Archer was neither a mind reader, nor a physician, he knew that Dr. Phlox was keeping something from him. And that something had to do with Trip's progress. When Archer had inquired this morning, all Phlox would say is, "The effectiveness of the treatment is difficult to determine at this point."

To which Archer had wanted to reply, "Just exactly how many times do they have to mate before there's any discernable progress?" But he hadn't. He had simply nodded his head and told Phlox to keep him informed.

"Captain, we're receiving a transmission," Hoshi's voice broke through his thoughts, "It's from Vulcan."

Archer turned to look at her questionably. "Are they requesting to speak to Ambassador V'Lar?" he asked.

Hoshi grinned. "No, sir. They are requesting to speak to you." Her voice held a definite tinge of happiness when she added, "It's Sub-Commander T'Pol."

Hope flooded through the Captain of the Enterprise at that moment. He was sure V'Lar and Ventik were trying to be helpful, but a small part of Archer still argued that T'Pol was the only Vulcan he could fully trust. "I'll take it in my quarters," Archer told Hoshi. "Lieutenant, you have the bridge."

After Archer had exited the bridge, Travis turned and looked at Malcolm expectantly. "Well, Lieutenant Reed, do you have any orders?"

"Yes," Malcolm replied sarcastically. "Try not to hit either of the ships in front of us."

Travis snickered. "I'll try, Sir. But you know, that might be awfully difficult, with us being stationary and all."

"Do your best, Ensign."

* * *

"T'Pol, this is quite a surprise," Archer said cheerfully. "But certainly a welcome one."

"Thank you, Captain. I am calling to relate additional information concerning Commander Tucker," T'Pol replied.

Archer sat up a little straighter at this news. More information concerning Trip-and his condition- was exactly what Archer wanted. "What type of additional information?" he pressed.

"As you are aware, Ambassador Soval was quite ill during his time on the Enterprise. It is quite likely that Commander Tucker had been provoked by the Ambassador. While the Ambassador may not concede to this, it is most likely true. I urge you to consider that fact when you contemplate prosecuting the Commander."

It took more than a minute for Archer to realize what she was talking about. When it dawned upon him, he shook his head in slight frustration. "Trip has been cleared of all charges, Sub-Commander," he assured the woman. "But it had nothing to do with Ambassador Soval's illness. It turns out Trip himself was ill and not in control of his actions."

T'Pol nodded. "He was displaying some disconcerting symptoms prior to my departure," she acknowledged. "Has Doctor Phlox determined the specific nature of Commander Tucker's illness?"

"Yes," Archer said, feeling that old familiar sensation of agitation. In annoyance, he ran a distracted hand through his hair before continuing. "According to Doctor Phlox, he has somehow contracted a Vulcan disorder-pon far, I believe he called it. In any event, it's the disease in which you apparently have to mate."

"No." T'Pol stated simply. "He could not have contracted it. It is not communicable. It is impossible." T'Pol felt an ever increasing sense of dread. It was not possible. Commander Tucker was not a Vulcan. He could not have pon far. There was only one way in which he could even be remotely capable of having it. And that too was impossible. It had to be.

"Damnit, T'Pol, I don't know anything about this disease," Archer snapped in frustration. He was not angry at T'Pol, not really, but she was a convenient target for his agitation. "All I know is what Phlox told me. Maybe if you Vulcans didn't insist on keeping everything so secretive, we'd have a little bit more information to go on and Trip wouldn't be in such a condition in the first place."

Archer regretted his outburst almost immediately. T'Pol's brows furrowed together in a manner which belied the belief that Vulcans do not have emotions. "I'm sorry, T'Pol. I didn't—"

"I must speak to Doctor Phlox, Captain."

"T"Pol—"

"Now, Captain. Time is of the essence."

"Alright."

* * *

Moments after Phlox had confirmed Captain Archer's claim, T'Pol ended the connection and exited the communications room.

Skon had been waiting patiently, but quirked an eyebrow as she exited. "Is all well with your ship?" he inquired. By way of explanation, he added, "Your voice was somewhat elevated."

T'Pol closed her eyes and wondered if she would ever have her control back. "I apologize for my lapse," she said.

"You are ill. No apology is necessary. What causes you concern?"

"I cannot explain yet. I must speak to my father first."


	30. Thunder And Lightning

In the distant past, Vulcans were a violent race. They had since learned to use logic to control their more primal urges. T'Pol was having a great deal of difficulty remembering the latter fact as she contemplated the information she had been given by both Captain Archer and Doctor Phlox.

_I must remain in control. I shall speak to father before I come to any conclusions,_ T'Pol chanted mentally. The entire situation lacked in logic, from T'Pol's point of view. If what she believed to have occurred had actually taken place, Soval would have needed to meld to initiate the transference. _Soval is not a melder,_ T'Pol reminded herself. Then again, would she ever have suspected that Skon or T'Pau were melders? And had Skon not insisted that all Vulcans were capable of melding?

"T'Pol, I realize you are ill. However, before you enter Security Head Quarters, it would be wise to control the emotion displayed upon your face," Skon remarked to her right.

Closing her eyes, T'Pol clasped her hands tightly behind her back and repeated the most basic of meditation phrases taught to Vulcan children. _Logic is the center of our civilization from which all else is based._ It did nothing to sooth the ever present head discomfort; however, it did help to sooth the aggression she was experiencing. A glance to Skon confirmed she had been successful in masking her discontent.

The sand runner came to a stop outside security headquarters. Before exiting the craft, T'Pol turned to Skon and asked, as neutrally as possible, "Captain Skon, have you been given any evidence that my father has engaged in melding activities?"

The question was not expected. The pause Skon demonstrated before answering served as proof that her question aroused some suspicion. "No, T'Pol, I have not. However, he has indicated in his conversations with Sumarek that he is not opposed to a revision in law concerning melders."

_It is only logical that he would not be opposed if he is guilty of what I believe him to be guilty of,_ T'Pol thought inwardly. "Thank you, Captain," she responded. "If you'll excuse me, I must speak with Soval. I should not take long."

* * *

Trip was vaguely aware of another presence kneeling beside him. With a considerable amount of effort, he shook his mind out of the haze it had slipped back into. He was somewhat surprised to see a male Vulcan where he had been certain T'Lal would have stood.

"Hey," Trip greeted softly. He did not feel up to a real discussion. T'Pol would understand what 'hey' was trying to convey. Surely this Vulcan could too.

Or not. "Hay?" the male questioned. "Dr. Phlox has gone to collect more sustenance, however, I am certain he did not mean to include feed typically reserved for Terran livestock."

Trip groaned. "No. Hey as in hello. I'm Trip." Short sentences were manageable.

The Vulcan decided wisely not to inquire as to why humans used a form of grass as a greeting. He took it as a sign of their ability to be illogical. "Hello, Commander Tucker. I am aware of who you are as well as your situation. My name is Doctor Ventik. I have been examining you for signs that your condition is decreasing."

"And?"

"Your condition is not progressing as expected," Ventik replied. "Although you are human, and the exact effects of a Vulcan disorder are difficult to determine. It would be helpful if you could tell me what symptoms you are experiencing."

"Head hurts...hot. Very hot...hard to concentrate...hurts."

"What hurts, Commander Tucker?"

"All over. Hurts."

Phlox arrived at that moment, bearing food and Ventik rose to excuse himself. Before he exited, Trip inquired, "T'Lal?"

Phlox answered for Ventik. "She is resting, Commander. She shall return shortly."

"Didn't hurt her?" Trip gasped out.

Ventik answered this time. "You have grown increasingly insistent in your demands, Commander."

"Sorry. Tell her. Sorry," Trip whispered.

Outside the decon chamber, Phlox turned a worried gaze upon Ventik. "He does not seem to be recovering."

"He is not," Ventik answered. "His condition is progressing as though no mate were present. His hormone levels continue to rise, his grasp on reality is weakening, his concentration continues to decrease, and his emotions-including temperament are becoming increasingly erratic."

"I understand the reason for all of his symptoms except the last one," Phlox told the Vulcan physician. "I do not see a purpose for increased temper in a Vulcan mating ritual."

Ventik furrowed his brows in the Vulcan equivalent of a frown. He still disliked discussing such a private matter with outworlders. Indeed, most Vulcans did not like to discuss Trip's condition amongst even themselves. With a life at risk, however..."You must understand, Doctor, pon far is not simply a matter of intercourse amongst Vulcans. It is a time during which our logic is...suspended. A Vulcan with the condition experiences considerable emotional fluctuations. As Commander Tucker is human, I suspect this aspect has taken longer to affect him primarily because humans freely experience emotions that Vulcans do not. The very fact that he is experiencing it seems to suggest that the condition is continuing to progress."

"T'Lal reported that Commander Tucker briefly seemed more coherent. Why do you believe that has decreased?" Phlox questioned.

"It is most curious. However, it is my belief that Commander Tucker experienced such relief because of the temporary effects of relieving himself," Ventik relayed.

"In other words, his body was temporarily tricked into believing it was being purged?" Phlox asked.

"Yes," Ventik confirmed.

"Then why did it cease?" Phlox wondered.

"I do not know," Ventik answered.

* * *

Within the confines of Security Head Quarters was a small jail. As there were few crimes committed amongst Vulcans, those that were committed were dealt with quickly, usually within a week. If the accused required a prolonged sentence, they would be transferred to the prison in the province of S'kar. This was only a temporary holding cell.

The facility was heavily guarded. However, with familial privileges T'Pol was able to see Soval alone in the defense room. It was where Soval and his advocate would mount a defense, if any could be constructed. Given the evidence, T'Pol was certain he would simply proclaim his guilt. It was the logical thing to do.

Regardless, she was thankful for the privacy which the room would grant her and Soval. While there were still guards outside, they would not enter unless given ample provocation. In addition, the room was sound proof. Given the nature of the conversation, such privacy was essential. T'Pol sat at the small rectangular table across from Soval in the defense room, uncertain as to how to begin the conversation.

"T'Pol, your visit is unexpected," Soval said by way of greeting. Not that her visit was unwelcome. Soval had no other company, with the exception of Sumarek, who had visited once to make certain he understood the enormity of the charges against him. Soval understood and had sent him away.

"Tell me what occurred between you and Commander Tucker," T'Pol instructed. Her voice came out flat and monotone, but her eyes betrayed the intensity behind her words.

"Commander Tucker? Ah, yes, he's your highly irrational and emotional engineer, isn't he?" Soval mused.

"He is human. He is naturally irrational and highly emotional," T'Pol responded.

"He is also the human you assured me you were not engaged in an inappropriate relationship with," Soval reminded her.

T'Pol's answer was quick. "We are not discussing my relationship with the Commander. We are discussing your interaction with him while you were on Enterprise."

"I have related this story to your captain. I see no logic in repeating it," Soval answered.

"I doubt you were entirely truthful in the matter," T'Pol rejoined. "According to your version of events, Commander Tucker provoked you-an action which would have been highly out of character for him-and you simply used the nerve pinch as a means of self defense."

"For what reason do you trust the character of a human over that of your own kind-your own kin, no less?"

"Humans have many flaws. They are emotional, irrational, illogical, and stubborn. Commander Tucker's species is also capable of loyalty, companionship, and friendship. They value these emotional relationships much more strongly than our own species does."

"I fail to see the relevance—"

"Commander Tucker is my friend. He has demonstrated this many times. He would not provoke someone if he knew-or suspected-they were important to me. This is his character. It is not under scrutiny. Yours is, father," T'Pol said evenly.

"What alleged evidence do you have that makes you distrust me so, T'Pol?" Soval demanded.

"You are here because you left Vulcan knowing you were under the influence of pon far. Commander Tucker is currently experiencing the symptoms of pon far. According to scans, the purging of your pon far took place while you were aboard the human ship. If it had been a sexual release, surely it would have been reported by now, as it is doubtful a human female could handle a Vulcan male in the throes of pon far without sustaining substantial damage. There is only one logical conclusion."

"What might that be?" Soval asked, pressing his fingers together in front of his chest.

"You transferred your pon far by another means," T'Pol replied. She had meant it to be a question. Instead, it came out as a statement.

Soval raised both his eyebrows at such a statement. "Such as?"

"Mind touching," T'Pol offered.

"You believe me to be a melder?" Soval asked incredulously.

"I would welcome a more logical explanation," T'Pol answered.

The two Vulcans sat across from each other, waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Soval broke the silence. "The needs of the many out way the needs of the few, T'Pol."

The small glimmer of hope T'Pol had held onto steadily disappeared in that moment. Disbelief took its place. Surely he had not committed such a crime and was now quoting Surak as justification? "You were prepared to sacrifice the life of Commander Tucker so that you could attend the peace conference between Andoria and Vulcan." Again, it was a statement; not a question.

"The inhabitants of both our planets shall benefit," Soval answered. "If you had not allowed your logic to be corrupted by humans, you would clearly be able to see the logic in my reasoning."

T'Pol rose at that point. "You overestimate your importance," she informed Soval. "Further, Surak did not value one life over the other. If your arrogance did not cloud your judgment, you would be able to see that."

"Your anger threatens to overwhelm you, T'Pol. Further proof you have been amongst humans too long—"

"Such is the reasoning for the emotions you perceive me to have. What reasons do you offer?" Her voice was not elevated, but her hands clenched themselves into fists. Soval momentarily pondered the likelihood of those fists making contact with his face. Regardless, it was a lapse in T'Pol's demeanor that he found more than slightly disconcerting.

"I have employed only logic in my actions," Soval replied.

T'Pol looked at him for a moment, as if gauging the audacity he had to make such a claim. Instead of replying, she straightened and reached for the buzzer to alert the guards they were finished. Soval surprised her by grasping her hand before she could complete the action. "T'Pol," he stated firmly, locking his eyes on hers, "regardless of your personal affiliations with Archer's crew, you cannot share this information."

T'Pol wrenched her hand from his and crossed her arms. She had every intention of sharing this information. Particularly with Skon. If Commander Tucker's path continued to follow that of Sokar..."For what reason do you believe I would be purposely be untruthful? Need I remind you, Vulcans do not lie." At least, they were not supposed to. Did Surak not use logic as a means of finding absolute truth?

"If you reveal the true nature of what has occurred, you will be both casting your family in an unfavorable position and reinforcing our society's bias against melders. Judging by your testimony at your trial, you are aware of the unpleasantness that possibility carries."

T'Pol pressed the buzzer before answering, "You alone have cast our family in an unfavorable position. This consideration I will give no heed to. The other factor I shall contemplate."

Soval rose as the guards entered and extended his hand in the traditional greeting. "Live long and prosper, T'Pol."

"You have done your best to ensure I do one but not the other," T'Pol retorted, earning her a raised eyebrow from the guards standing at Soval's side. "Prosperity and long life, Soval."

As she left, her mind was heavily weighing what Soval had told her. There was no doubting the truthfulness of his accusations. If what had occurred between Soval and Commander Tucker were to be revealed to Vulcan society at large, then surely the melders would continue to be subject to her people's illogical intolerance, at the very least. Even worse, they could be subject to deeper persecution due to the confirmed danger.

_I hold great affection for Commander Tucker,_ T'Pol acknowledged to herself. _Yet, ultimately is his well being worth more than that of the whole of Vulcan society?_

T'Pol forced away a shiver that she would have had difficulty controlling even without the presence of her illness. She could only hope the condition would not come to that. T'Pol remembered Phlox's comments: "He has been considerably more alert. Yet, T'Lal is concerned with the fact that his headache has not diminished."

_Her concern is understandable,_ T'Pol noted inwardly. _The headache is typically the first symptom to be alleviated._ True, he would still burn, yet the other symptoms would gradually cease.

The concern T'Pol was experiencing slowly faded as the image of T'Lal comforting Commander Tucker took its place. She had not permitted herself to dwell on the thought while discussing the Commander's condition. Her mind had been preoccupied with how he had contracted the condition in the first place.

Now, alone in the corridor she permitted her mind to wander. Her mind focused on T'Lal soothing Commander Tucker. . T'Pol's Commander Tucker.

The image was the last T'Pol saw before blacking out.

* * *

Three hours later, T'Pol awoke. The healer that stood beside her bed, Sakon, greeted her when she opened her eyes. "Greetings, Lady T'Pol," he stated evenly. "Captain Skon and Lady T'Pau will wish to see you awake. I shall alert them of your status."

_Why does he call me Lady T'Pol?_ was the Sub-Commander's first thought. A second later, realization dawned: she was betrothed to a prince. The thought brought an unwelcome sensation, but she pushed it aside. _When did I allow myself to become so blatantly emotional?_ she questioned. Whether it was a side effect of her illness or her times with humans, T'Pol did not wish to contemplate further. Besides, she did not have time to ponder such inconsequential thoughts now. When Skon, T'Pau, and Sakon re-entered her room, she forced herself into a sitting position. "Skon, T'Pau, I must speak with you concerning the Enterprise."

"Does it concern the status of Commander Tucker?" T'Pau inquired.

T'Pol blinked at T'Pau's insight. "Yes," she replied, glancing at Sakon as she answered. T'Pol was uncertain whether she should continue with the delicate nature of the conversation with an outsider in the room.

Sensing her dilemma, Skon informed her, "Sakon is a melder as well, T'Pol. It was necessary any healer brought in to treat your illness be skilled."

T'Pau finished for him. "However, if you wish to discuss Commander Tucker, be aware that we have been advised of the situation."

T'Pol rose an eyebrow in surprise. "Indeed?"

"Yes," Skon answered. "Ambassador V'Lar has briefed us of his condition."

Ambassador V'Lar. Of course. In her haste, T'Pol had completely forgotten about the Ambassador's presence on the Enterprise. Another thought occurred to her almost simultaneously. "Is the Ambassador a melder as well?" she asked.

"Yes," T'Pau responded.

_Of course she is,_ T'Pol thought to herself. Recalling the conversation they had shared the last time V'Lar had been on the Enterprise, T'Pol acknowledged that V'Lar was anything but an ordinary Vulcan. But T'Pol's focus refused to stay on V'Lar. "What do you intend to do about Commander Tucker?"

"Do?" T'Pau asked. "What is there to do?"

T'Pol closed her eyes in an effort to control her agitation. "He is in danger. As was Sokar."

T'Pau did not seem to share her concern. "According to Ambassador V'Lar, the Commander has been making steady process. There is no reason to believe that he is in danger. The outworlder will heal."

"The Ambassador has promised to send us a report on Commander Tucker's progress every six hours," Skon told T'Pol. "If the condition changes, we shall inform you immediately."

That calmed T'Pol somewhat. *Calmed? A Vulcan should not have to be calmed," T'Pol admonished herself.

"Regardless of Commander Tucker's situation," Sakon spoke up, "you have a marital ceremony to attend in two days, T'Pol. In that time period, you must try to control your thought processes as to preclude any fainting spells such as the one that occurred this morning."

"It has become increasingly difficult to control my...emotions," T'Pol admitted.

Sakon nodded his head. "That is to be expected. Your brain tissue has continued to swell, to an increasingly dangerous level. The swollen tissue is having an adverse effect on all portions of your brain-including those connecting with concentration. As you are aware, we require an immense amount of concentration for meditation and control. I trust you have not been able to meditate successfully in some time?"

T'Pol nodded.

"Do not be concerned. As soon as you have completed the marital ceremony, and the bonding, you will regain the control and be able to return to the appropriate behavior for our people," Sakon promised. "If you have another one of the black outs between now and then, however, it will likely end in death."

As the trio turned to take their leave , T'Pol acknowledged silently that it was not her own death that she was concerned with. _Commander Tucker is recovering,_ she scolded herself lightly. _Neither V'Lar nor Skon would engage in falsehoods._ T'Pol was not inclined to believe T'Pau would either, however, she was not as certain. T'Pau had a rather disconcerting habit of referring to humans as "outworlders." It was entirely believable that a mere human's death would mean little to T'Pau.

Outworlders. An entirely ethnocentric term meant to enforce Vulcan isolation, emphasize Vulcan superiority, and deny Vulcan and human compatibility. Truthfully, T'Pol had to admit that only two years before, she done the same. Yielding to the swollen brain tissue, T'Pol allowed herself to indulge in the outworlders' sensation of regret.


	31. Down Came The Rain: Vulcan

If Sumarek had been human, he would have frowned at the vision on the screen in front of him. Although his Vulcan reserve may have prevented him from doing so, it did not prevent him from furrowing his brows. "I do not understand how this is possible," he stated finally, after a brief pause to express his incredulity.

Ventik nodded once in agreement. "Nor do I. Regardless, the human has contacted the same condition as the former Ambassador Soval."

Sumarek drew his hands up to a point under his chin thoughtfully as he contemplated this unexpected turn of events. "While the event is unexpected, I am uncertain why you are bringing it to my attention. I would not have pictured Soval picking a human male to copulate with; however, his condition is known to present unexpected results."

"I would not have contacted you if Soval's condition had been relieved in a typical manner," Ventik replied. His youth and lack of control showed somewhat, as his voice was elevated slightly in indignation.

Sumarek overlooked the doctor's lapse. "There is evidence of the act being non-consensual?" he inquired.

"There is no evidence of any sexual act between Commander Tucker and Ambassador Soval," Ventik answered.

Years of Vulcan training helped Sumarek suppress the urge to sigh in frustration. "How then you suppose he has contacted the condition?" he asked.

Ventik paused. "You have heard of Selak, have you not?"

Recalling his meeting with Soval and the doctors who had first discovered T'Pol's illness, Sumarek nodded. "Yes. Are you presuming that Ambassador Soval is engaging in melding activities?" Sumarek questioned.

Ventik arched an eyebrow. "I have no other logical conclusion," he replied.

"Very well. I shall take your word under advisement. Is there any medical evidence you can supply?" Sumarek wondered.

Again, Ventik betrayed his lack of training when he answered with more than a bit of irritation. "Given that melds are prohibited, we have no medical means of identifying them, outside of an instance of Pa'Nar Syndrome." Gaining his composure, Ventik continued, "Also, you should be advised that I have checked the communication logs sent from our ship. It appears that Ambassador V'Lar has sent an inordinate amount of communication to our homeworld."

"Ambassador V'Lar is in charge of peace negotiations. It is only natural that she—"

"Two of her communications have been to Captain Skon. Skon is not affiliated with the Vulcan High Command and has no relevant contribution to the proceedings," Ventik pointed out. "It may be of no consequence. However, I would be remiss by not mentioning it to you."

Nodding his approval, Sumarek thanked the younger Vulcan. "I appreciate your efforts, Doctor. Keep me informed."

"I will. Ventik out."

After closing the connection, Sumarek contemplated his next move for only a moment before reaching for the intercom. Hailing his receptionist, Sumarek requested the presence of Security Headquarter's chief computer analyst. He was, after all, the best Vulcan for the job of decoding encrypted messages. And Sumarek had no doubt that V'Lar's messages to Skon were encrypted.

* * *

_The Enterprise_

The mood of Archer's ship was decidedly maudlin. Missing two of the senior officers had definitely hurt the ship's morale. Never was this more obvious than on the ship's designated movie night.

The Captain attended-he had the obligation to his ship to put up a good front. Just as he tried to lead his crew into battle assuredly, he tried in vain to lead their spirits into the realm of happiness.

He was less successful than the infamous baby gazelle.

It was certainly partially the movie's fault. Made in 2008, "Stargate: SG-1 Reunited" had been one of the most successful science fiction motion pictures of the early twenty-first century. Normally, Archer would have loved this movie, as it held all the crucial elements of a good film, in his estimation: the dialogue was witty, the plot was action packed, and the characters' chemistry was palatable.

Tonight, however, the characters' personalities and interactions bothered him more than he could handle. Tonight, Sg-1's alien, Teal'C, reminded Archer a little too much of his former first officer. Tonight, the friendship between SG-1's Daniel Jackson and Jack O'Neill reminded Archer a little too much of the man lying in sickbay.

Archer forced himself to stay, but he ignored the movie as it hit entirely too close to home. Instead, he focused on his crew, most of whom were paying close attention to the film. It was a full house tonight, as it tended to be on science fiction nights. Regardless of the crew's attention, however, a heavy cloud of gloom lingered in the air. It had been four days since T'Pol had left, three days since Trip's "treatment" had arrived from the Vulcan ship, and almost a week since Trip had taken ill. The effect of the personnel changes was definitely taking its toll on the crew; which is why Archer forced himself to stay put in a movie that was depressing him so utterly and thoroughly.

"Jack, hold on, Carter's almost got the gate open. You're going to make it," Daniel Jackson promised his friend.

"Nah...d-don't t-t-think so," the wounded and bleeding Jack O'Neill replied. "Think I-I'm a goner, D-Daniel."

Daniel allowed a sob to escape as he pressed harder on O'Neill's wound, trying in vain to stop the blood flow which only seemed to increase with every second. "Hurry up, Carter!" he snapped in frustration. Distantly, both men heard Samantha Carter's reply: the gate was stuck.

Hysteria gripped Daniel. He barely heard Carter's explanation as to how or why it was stuck. Miraculously, O'Neill managed a soft chuckle. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth as he whispered, "L-look on the bright s-side, D-danny boy. I d-didn't have to w-watch y-you die...again. C-couldn't."

That was all. There was no more, as the commanding officer of SG-1 was gone.

So was Archer. He fled the room to the safety of his quarters. It would do him no good to go back to sickbay, where he had already been earlier that day. Phlox would only send him away again, as he had before. Dropping himself onto his bed, his gaze fell upon a book laying on the table beside him. As Porthos jumped up onto the bed next to him, Archer reached for the book. The Complete Teachings of Surak. Translated by Skon. Competing pieces of Archer felt humiliated and angered. As if channeling his master's emotions, Porthos gave a pitiful whine and flopped his head down on his paws.

"I couldn't have said it better myself, Porthos," Archer remarked, rubbing the dog's ears absently.

* * *

_Vulcan_

Sumarek glanced over the PADD containing the unencrypted messages from Ambassador V'Lar. On the surface, they were hardly incriminatory. They spoke simply of Commander Tucker's illness. The Ambassador had been careful not to allow mention of illicit activity, either suspected or otherwise. Nonetheless, her very messages were suspect, as there was no reason for the Ambassador to be contacting Skon.

As Sumarek contemplated his next course of action, his gaze fell upon the chess set in the corner of his office. Recalling the last time V'Lar had been in the office, Sumarek allowed the Vulcan equivalent of a smirk as he remembered her decided interest in the melding proceedings. Had she truly believed he would not understand the reasoning for her questions? Then, V'Lar had simply been playing him in the same fashion that a competent player plays chess. She had anticipated the opponent's move by conversing with him. And now she was adding an offensive move of her own by contacting Skon.

Ah, yes, Skon the revered. Skon and T'Pau's presence in the melder movement was a large reason for the current hesitation in the prosecution of melders on Vulcan. Both Skon and T'Pau were highly respected. Their prosecutions would certainly shake Vulcan society to its core. Yet, they were clearly engaging in illegal activities, as melders. Had they been any other Vulcan, from any other Vulcan family, they would have been banished from the planet. _Where is the logic in favoritism?_ Sumarek thought wryly. _Still, their increasing influence in our culture is an laudable achievement._

The decision of what to do next laid entirely with Sumarek, as head of the security council. With a secondary glance at the chess set, he decided to take a cue from Ambassador V'Lar and treat the delicate matter with the same fashion as he would approach a chess game. A very essential chess game. The defensive strategy had been attended to, of course, with the interception of V'Lar's transmissions. It was now up to Sumarek to provide an appropriate offensive measure.

Reaching for his computer console, Sumarek contacted his most reliable agent within the melder movement to inform him of his latest assignment. Given the personal nature of the quest, Sumarek approached the call with some trepidation.

The agent of espionage did not disappoint his superior. "I am not pleased with this development," he informed Sumarek. "However, I do understand the purpose of such an mission. I shall do my best."

* * *

_Enterprise_

The lights came on abruptly as the credits rolled to the movie. Malcolm noted with little surprise that the woman beside him did not have dry eyes. Having heard in advance of the potentially depressing movie end, Reed had come prepared. He withdrew the handkerchief from his pocket and handed it quite graciously to Hoshi.

"Thank you," she managed between sniffles. "That was so sad. I don't know how you managed to get through the movie without crying."

Malcolm shook his head. "I just didn't find it very sad, I'm afraid."

Hoshi stared at him incredulously. "How could you not find it sad? Jack got shot and Teal'C was tortured and killed by his own son."

"Yes," Malcolm conceded. "However, both General O'Neill and Teal'C were soldiers. They died in a manner befitting of profession. Both died so that their teammate could live. In O'Neill's case, Daniel Jackson. In Teal'C's case, Samantha Carter."

Hoshi sighed. "I know, Malcolm. But it's still depressing."

Malcolm would not be swayed. "Not if it's how they wished to go." At Hoshi's doubtful glance, he continued, "Spartan mothers had a phrase they would tell their sons before they went off to war: 'Come back with your shield or on it.' Meaning, if it comes down to throwing down your shield and running to save your life, don't do it. Stay there in battle and die rather than fail your duty."

Hoshi looked horrified. "That's an awful thing to say to your child! How would throwing down your shield save your life, anyway?"

Malcolm shrugged. "Less weight," he replied effortlessly.

"You know if T'Pol was here, she'd point out that Spartan culture was a barbaric, illogical society that was destined to fail," Hoshi lamented.

"Yes, and if Trip were here, he would be certain to point out the pessimistic nature of the society," Malcolm agreed.

There was a moment of silence as the two crewmembers silently mourned their friends. Finally Hoshi said what was obvious to them both, "I miss them."

"I do too," Malcolm conceded.

"We aren't even updated on how they're doing," Hoshi added. "I mean, T'Pol just heads off to Vulcan and there's no sign if she's dead or alive..." Hoshi's voice cracked on the final syllable of 'alive.'

Malcolm finished the sentiment. "And we aren't allowed to visit Trip at all in sickbay." He sighed, running an hand through his hair in frustration.

"Everything will work out in the end," Hoshi assured him, hollowly. At Malcolm's look she added, "It has to."

Nodding, and not wanting to dwell on the subject, Malcolm switched gears. "I have a scheduled meeting in the gym with Travis in twenty minutes. In the meantime, I'd be happy to walk you back to your quarters."

Hoshi smiled brightly for the first time all night. "That sounds wonderful. Why do you have a meeting with Travis?" she asked.

"I've been practicing some of the martial arts skills T'Pol taught me before she left. I require a partner," Malcolm responded.

* * *

_Vulcan_

T'Pol had recovered significantly from her earlier bout of unconsciousness and was well enough to attend the meeting of the melders being held in the home of Skon and his wife, T'Lara. T'Pol served mainly as an observer. Her presence had been briefly explained before the meeting had began. She noted, however, that it was entirely unlikely that the melders had not been expecting her.

Most of the Vulcans gathered in the room were unfamiliar to T'Pol. The ones she did recognize were surprisingly respected in her society. _I have been amiss in my original categorization of melders,_ she acknowledged.

A Vulcan male spoke presently, "While the news of the Security Council is encouraging, I do not understand how we can demonstrate the medical and scientific benefits of melds without the opportunity to show proof."

T'Pol spoke then. "What exactly are the medical benefits?"

The male raised an eyebrow at her bluntness and remarked, "That is an understandable question, T'Pol. Your experiences have been rather negative, I understand."

T'Pol did not care for his patronizing. "Pity is an emotional. As a Vulcan I have no need for it," she responded crisply.

Raising his other eyebrow, the male responded, "In that case, allow me to instead answer your question in part. Scientifically, melds are a harmonious alignment of synaptic activity. They have been documented to be beneficial in postponing the effects of the Benai Syndrome as well as a variety of unfortunate neurological disorders. Most intriguingly, the activity of melding has had the rumored capacity to ease the discomfort of pon far."

Someone else began to speak, but T'Pol ceased to pay attention to them. Her attention was focused upon the male Vulcan. He looked distinctly familiar, but T'Pol could not place immediately place.

As the meeting adjourned, he made his way to where she stood. "T'Pol," he began, "It was not my intention to cause offense. Allow me to express my sincerest apology if I have done so."

T'Pol shook her head. "It is I who should apologize. I am certain you meant no offense."

"I am glad you realize that," the male answered. "Perhaps then, you would not be in objection to joining me for an excursion tomorrow?"

"I doubt the wisdom of agreeing to any type of expedition with someone I do not know," T'Pol answered.

A smile tugged at the male's lips. "We may not have seen each other in some time, T'Pol, but we are not strangers. It is I, Koss."

For a moment T'Pol was speechless. When she found her voice again, she answered, "What type of tr-...expedition do you have in mind?"

"I am going on a survey mission for a potential research facility near the province of Tr'Nar. I thought if you would like to accompany me, there is much to discuss," Koss answered.

"Such as?" T'Pol asked wearily.

If Koss was surprised by her question, he did not show it. "My parents may not have seen the benefit of your work; however, they are not representative of our entire planet. I am most curious to hear of your work on the Enterprise. I understand you are to be wed in two days' time and tomorrow may be the last chance I have to converse with you in such a casual setting."

T'Pol nodded her approval. "That shall be pleasant. I have not had the opportunity to review the landscape of my home world since returning. I would welcome such an opportunity," she said truthfully.

Koss raised his hand in the familiar Vulcan gesture. "Until then, live long and prosper, T'Pol."

"Prosperity and long life, Koss," T'Pol bade him while returning the gesture.


	32. To Wash The Spider Out?

Soval had been correct. She had grown accustomed to spices. So much accustomed that T'Pol was considering the bland morning meal nearly inedible. It needed pepper.

As disconcerting as that realization was, stronger still was the realization that T'Pol craved mealtime conversation. Her meals, typically shared with the very talkative Commander Tucker and Captain Archer, were always conduits of dialogue. Digesting her food without any accompanying banter seemed distinctly unnatural to T'Pol. Unnatural as it was, however, T'Pol forced herself to endure the silence. She was, after all, on her home world now. And so, they ate in silence.

Their food completed, T'Lara spoke. "T'Pol, I have made the preparations for the meal following your ceremony tomorrow. Is there any specific dish you would prefer?"

Irrationally, T'Pol thought of a certain dish immediately. A certain sweet dish. She dismissed the notion, as it would be nearly impossible to obtain pecans. _Even if it were not, how could I explain my preference for it?_ Unfortunately, the brief thought was enough to induce considerable additional pain. T'Pol gripped the edge of the table and closed her eyes briefly in an effort to gain control.

Her effort worked, but caused T'Lara room for concern. Skon had seen such a demonstration before, and so the action was not as unexpected. He had no doubt that his wife's question had compelled a strong emotional response tied to the human ship T'Pol was on leave from. T"Lara, on the other hand, had not been privy to as many displays of T'Pol's illness and was thus justifiably more disturbed.

"Are you well, T'Pol?" T'Lara asked.

A small part of T'Pol-no doubt, the part being most heavily affected by her illness-wanted to laugh. _If I were well, I would not be on Vulcan,_ T'Pol wanted to respond. Such a response would be illogically inhospitable, however. Instead, T'Pol answered, "Yes, I am well. I require no personal requests for the meal."

T'Lara nodded and T'Pol took the opportunity to ask the question that had plagued her since her conversation with Skon the previous day. "Skon, have you heard from Ambassador V'Lar since we last spoke?"

The older Vulcan had indeed. "Yes, T'Pol, Ambassador V'Lar has notified me concerning Commander Tucker's circumstances."

T'Pol sat a little straighter than a reserved Vulcan would have. "How is his condition progressing?" she asked.

The pause in Skon's answer was enough to provide the truth. But T'Pol refused to believe it until Skon confirmed her suspicions when he spoke. "V'Lar has proclaimed that the condition is not...progressing as well as could be hoped."

Again, T'Pol closed to her eyes in an effort to gain control. This time, however, the pain she sought to end was not physical. As such, her efforts achieved little. "He is going to die," she said softly.

Neither of the older Vulcans rebuked her for her display of emotion. Even Surak had known there was sometimes sufficient cause for emotional displays. Now surely was one of those times. "I grieve with you, T'Pol," Skon offered.

Her head snapped up at the statement. "Do you?" she inquired.

"Of course we do," T'Lara spoke up.

Turning her gaze towards Skon, T'Pol looked at him directly. "I have been contemplating Commander Tucker's condition. You claim that Sokar died because his wife lacked the typical telepathic abilities possessed by Vulcans. Additionally, Koss claims that melding can help ease the symptoms of pon far."

Skon leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. "Both of those statements are correct," he answered.

"Then it is possible that by melding, Commander Tucker's problem could be alleviated?" T'Pol questioned.

Skon raised an eyebrow at the question. "I suppose it may be possible," he agreed. "However, we have no way of knowing for certain. There are no documented melds involving humans."

"But it is certain if we do nothing, Commander Tucker will die, is it not?" T'Pol replied.

Skon hesitated slightly. "It is not certain...but it is the most probable scenario."

T'Pol closed her eyes yet again. "Then we must attempt a meld."

"T'Pol, I understand your willingness to help your crewman," Skon conceded. T'Pol wondered briefly if he was expressing tact or ignorance by calling Commander Tucker her 'crewman.' "However, you must understand that there will be considerable reluctance amongst most of our people to bond with a human."

"I find it difficult to understand why a melder would propagate such bigotry. If any Vulcan should embrace the concept of IDIC, I would think melders would," T'Pol retorted.

Her point was well taken. Skon and T'Lara both nodded in agreement. "It is not that simple, T'Pol," T'Lara pointed out. "When two Vulcans are bonded, they share their most intimate thoughts."

"I am aware of that," T'Pol replied stubbornly.

"But perhaps you are not aware of the fact that when two Vulcans are bonded, they are drawn to one another when their time of mating occurs," Skon informed her.

She had not known that. And she was more than a bit irritated that no one had seen fit to tell her that before she agreed to bond with Sopel. "Is this the case with all melds?" she asked, "Or just the mating type?"

"The mating type," Skon answered. "I assume that would be the type Commander Tucker would require if he were to be healed using a meld. However, because of the personal nature involved, I do not know if a Vulcan would be willing to bond with the Commander. Not necessarily because of bigotry, but because we are not certain how a human would respond to our cultural practices."

"In my experience, humans respond very well to Vulcan rituals. They demonstrate both interest and aptitude when encouraged to engage in practices of our world that they have been privy to," T'Pol informed them.

"Indeed?" T'Lara questioned. "What examples can you provide?"

"Ensign Hoshi Sato has engaged in Vulcan meditation techniques in an effort to suppress her most undesirable feelings. Lieutenant Malcolm Reed has mastered several of the most complicated Vulcan martial arts rituals," T'Pol offered. "Indeed, Commander Tucker has demonstrated immense curiosity for Vulcan rituals." That was true enough, although T'Pol had frequently declined to answer him truthfully.

"Your Captain Archer did demonstrate an urge to know more about Vulcan history," Skon mused. "Still, while you and I may believe these events to be true, it is doubtful that we can convince another Vulcan enough that they would wish to bond with Commander Tucker, however curious he may be."

"Then I will bond with him," T'Pol stated simply.

Four eyebrows raised at her declaration. "You cannot, T'Pol. You are set to wed—"

"And I will still wed Sopel," T'Pol said firmly, interrupting T'Lara. "But I will not sit back and permit Commander Tucker to die. Not when I can prevent it."

"There is the issue of getting the Enterprise here without arousing suspicion," T'Lara protested.

T'Pol looked at T'Lara as she addressed her. "I would appreciate having my colleagues at my ritual marital meal. Perhaps you will arrange that, Captain Skon?"

The male Vulcan nodded. "I will do all within my power, T'Pol," he vowed.

* * *

The bridge of Enterprise was as equally morose as her makeshift theatre had been the night before. Archer was relieved to be able to leave the atmosphere when he received a hail from Vulcan. He was greeted by the serenely calm face of Captain Skon. Again, Archer could not help but wonder if he demonstrated such calm. _Probably not,_ he noted to himself. Then again, how could he have expected to demonstrate calm given the circumstances. That very morning, Phlox had informed him the treatment for Commander Tucker was not producing the necessary results.

"Captain Skon, this is somewhat unexpected," Archer said honestly. "Is everything alright with T'Pol?" _Please let everything be okay,_ he prayed silently. Archer couldn't handle the additional burden of T'Pol's illness on top of Trip's.

"Sub-Commander T'Pol is well," Skon answered. "It is on her behalf that I am contacting you."

Archer frowned slightly to express his puzzlement. "If she's okay, then what's the trouble?"

Skon cocked his head in a gesture which demonstrated considerable amusement-for a Vulcan. "Why do you believe there to be...'trouble'?" the venerable Vulcan inquired.

"I've not known many Vulcans that would call up a Starfleet vessel unless there was some pressing matter that needed to be discussed." If Archer's tone was unnecessarily harsh, it was because he no longer felt as though he had the luxury to debate such unessential elements.

Skon did not point out that "a pressing matter" was not synonymous with "trouble." Instead, he informed the Captain, "I am here to formally invite you to the wedding meal of Sub-Commander T'Pol."

It took a moment for Archer to process that information. "T'Pol...is getting MARRIED?" he exclaimed. "But she and Trip—" he stopped, realizing it was most inappropriate to disclose what he had almost spilled. _But, oh, God, poor Trip,_ Archer thought to himself. _It doesn't make any sense, though._ Archer clearly remembered the conversation in sickbay he'd had with T'Pol when he'd still believed Trip was guilty of assaulting Ambassador Soval. While his first officer had insisted that there was nothing between them, Archer had been convinced otherwise.

_Maybe I should have listened to her,_ the Captain thought remorsefully. Because Archer was certain that T'Pol would not have married someone else if she had been involved with Trip.

"Yes, Captain Archer, T'Pol is to be wed to Prince Sopel. He is a very well known anthropologist working on Vulcan-Andorian relations," Skon replied.

"I see. Speaking of Vulcan-Andorian relations, I'm kind of in the middle of negotiations. So as much as we'd like to attend, I'm not sure we can just bow out of the conference," Archer said apologetically. He was sincere in his apology. Archer was an explorer, after all. And a Vulcan wedding ceremony had to be as unique as any nebula.

Skon nodded. "I had anticipated that. Rest assured, I have spoken with Ambassador Shran and Ambassador V'Lar. As I mentioned, Prince Sopel is well known for his role in furthering Vulcan-Andorian communications. Ambassador Shran was co-operative in assuring his bride would have the ceremony that pleased her."

"Well, in that case..." Archer said with a grin, "Why not? I'm sure a Vulcan wedding has to be fascinating."

Skon paused only slightly. "You will not be permitted to attended the actual ceremony itself, Captain. You and your senior crew are invited to the wedding meal only."

Archer frowned. Vulcan food. Great. "I see. I'm certain Hoshi and Malcolm will be delighted to attend, as well as myself."

"You must also bring Commander Tucker," Skon said immediately. "It is imperative that he be allowed to attend."

Archer leaned in closer to the view screen. "I don't think that will be appropriate, Captain Skon. Not only is Trip sick, but well, he..." Archer broke off, trying to figure out how to tell the other Captain that his engineer lusted after the science officer.

It turned out that he did not have to. "I am aware of Commander Tucker's situation," Skon answered. "As you are aware that it is a Vulcan ailment."

"Are you saying that the cure for his disease is on your planet?" Archer demanded. This wasn't the time for Vulcan word games. Not if it involved saving his friend's life.

"It is not certain. However, I understand that Commander Tucker is not recuperating as was expected?" Skon commented.

Archer nodded, his head suddenly feeling ten times heavier. "He was doing well, and then his recovery just stopped. Phlox says so far he hasn't shown any dramatic decreases, but he hasn't gotten any better either. Phlox says if his condition doesn't show some sign of improvement soon..."

"He will perish," Skon finished. "I am aware of that. As is the Sub-Commander. She . . is quite determined to prevent that from happening, Captain."

For some irrational reason, that made him feel better. But if T'Pol was so concerned about T'Pol's well being, then why in the hell was she marrying some Vulcan? Well, not just any Vulcan. A _prince._

"We'll be there, Skon. Is there anything else?"

"Please bring Ambassador V'Lar with you. It would be wise to proceed with all due haste."

Archer didn't have to be told twice. In engineering, a very frustrated Lieutenant Hess wished for Commander Tucker's presence yet again as she pushed for warp five.


	33. In Transit, On The Water Spout: Enterprise

"She can't get married!" Hoshi exclaimed. The exclamation caused her to receive three very startled looks from Malcolm, Travis, Phlox and Captain Archer. The five were gathered in Captain Archer's quarters, where he was explaining their latest "mission" to Vulcan.

"Why not, Ensign?" Phlox inquired.

Hoshi shook her head. "Never mind," she grumbled. Clearly, she was in a room with three of the stupidest humanoids in the known universe, if they couldn't figure out something so obvious.

Archer gave her a curious look, but continued. "In any event, we've been invited to the equivalent of a Vulcan wedding reception. We can't attend the wedding-I'm supposing it is one of their many secrets." The last part was said quite bitterly as Archer turned to Phlox at that point. "And since we're all here, Phlox is going to give us all an update on Commander Tucker's condition. I know you three must have been very worried." Archer's tone implied a good deal of frustration.

"We've been very concerned, Sir," was Malcolm's immediate reply.

"I know it must have been particularly hard on you, Malcolm," Archer said sympathetically. "I'm sorry to have kept it from you. Without your help, Trip would still be in the brig..." Archer trailed off, not wanting to contemplate the way he'd treated his best friend. Pushing his guilt aside, Archer continued, "I want to make it perfectly clear that everything Phlox has to say is classified to the highest level. Under no circumstances does it leave this room. Is that clear?"

Hoshi, Trip, and Malcolm nodded in unison.

"Make sure you remember that. I know the rest of the crew has to be curious-especially the engineering crew. But, damnit, they'll just have to live with it," Archer snapped. "We're doing the best we can, after all, considering the lack of information we've been given."

As a linguist, Hoshi picked up on the rapid changes in Archer's mood immediately. One minute, he was despondent, the next he was practically livid. Hoshi was pretty certain there was a clear target for his anger, even if she had no idea who the target in fact was. Had her friend's life not been the topic of discussion, she would have found the tone inflections interesting.

But her friend's life was in danger. Possibly two of her friends. It was for that reason that Hoshi did not feel badly for interrupting Archer's self pitying dialogue. "With respect, Captain, what do we know?"

Archer gestured to Phlox, giving permission for him to speak. "Commander Tucker has transmitted a Vulcan illness—"

"From T'Pol?" Hoshi interrupted.

Phlox gave his patient smile. "We are not certain how the condition was transmitted, Ensign. However, we are fairly certain that the Sub-Commander was not involved in the process. She was quite...surprised to learn of his illness. At least, as surprised as any self respecting Vulcan would allow herself to be."

_I bet she was more than 'surprised,'_ Hoshi thought inwardly. _Devastated, horrified, and pissed that they were separated, for instance._

"How serious is the illness?" Travis questioned.

_Ah, trust Travis to get directly to the point,_ Hoshi grinned to herself.

"You are aware that a treatment arrived from the Vulcan ship?" Phlox questioned. At the nods from Hoshi, Malcolm, and Traivs, he continued, "It was ineffective. His condition shows no sign of improving."

Hoshi's linguist's ear heard the audible gasp that came from Malcolm at his place by her side. She suspected she was the only one, as neither Phlox nor Archer showed any signs of hearing it. Poor Travis just stood there, looking lost, alone, and younger than he already was. Although Archer was still alternating between looking angry and looking like he'd lost his best friend.

_Well, he's pretty close to it,_ Hoshi reflected.

"However, Captain Skon has given some indication that help for Trip will be found on Vulcan as well. So that is the unofficial reason we are going. Officially, of course, we are going to attend T'Pol's wedding reception," Archer finished. Hoshi noted that the Captain's head drooped, and his fingers caressed a copy of an old book, as if he were contemplating something else entirely. The Ensign dismissed it. After all, certainly Archer was most certainly thinking of his best friend lying in sickbay. Who could blame him?

"Can we see him?" Malcolm asked softly. _Miraculous. Trip's one of the few people that can crack through Malcolm's exterior._ Hoshi didn't want to contemplate what Trip's death would do to the Lieutenant.

Phlox seemed to hesitate in his answer. "Perhaps it would be best, in case our efforts are not successful on Vulcan," he answered finally. "But all four of you should be advised that Commander Tucker is suffering from severe delusions. What he says is likely not to...make much sense to you."

He received four rather somber nods. "As long as you understand that, I don't see any reason why you can't visit with Commander Tucker. His subconscious may quite enjoy your presence."

_If the last line was meant to be encouraging, Doctor, it was anything but,_ Hoshi thought with a sigh. Suddenly another thought occurred to her. "Captain, when Skon contacted you, did he mention anything about T'Pol's illness?"

Archer shook his head. "No. But I'm assuming she's better. After all, she's well enough to get married, isn't she?"

Hoshi couldn't argue with that point. _After all, who gets married when they're sick?_

* * *

_Vulcan_

T'Pol stood beside Koss in the as yet still barren parcel of ground in the Vulcan province of Tr'Nar. She waited patiently as the architect surveyed his plot of land and took the time to observe him.

He was, from all appearances, an intelligent, thoughtful, and considerate Vulcan male in addition to being an accomplished member of his field. He also held the decidedly non-Vulcan quality of being gifted at the art of conversation. Well, perhaps non-Vulcan was too harsh of an assessment, T'Pol reflected. But since returning to her home planet, T'Pol had noticed a considerable lack of conversation on the scale she had been exposed to on the Enterprise.

_Vulcans do not engage in idle chit-chat, T'Pol,_ she chastised herself.

But T'Pol had learned to. As had Koss.

_Indeed, I believe he could converse quite expertly with Commander Tucker, who is an expert in the nuances of idle chit-chat,_ T'Pol considered.

Unfortunately, the unexpected thought brought a familiar pain. It was not enough to render her unconscious. It was, however, dizzying enough to force a small gasp of pain from her lips. The sound was only loud enough for another Vulcan to hear. Being Vulcan, Koss was at her side immediately.

"Come, Lady T'Pol, I will take you to a healer," he offered.

Straightening herself and repeating a mantra of Surak, she shook her head. "That will not be necessary, Koss. I am aware of my condition. I do not need a healer's diagnosis."

Koss looked at her quizzically. "May I inquire on the nature of your illness?"

Before departing for their journey, T'Pol had inquired from Skon the trustworthiness of Koss. The elder Vulcan had assured her that Koss had been a steady attendant to the melding meetings for over a year. He had been invited to the melder's inner circle by the revered Lady T'Pau herself.

Thus, T'Pol did not hesitate to share her illness with him. He was, after all, a fellow melder.

"You have heard of my encounter with Tolaris?" she asked him.

Gazing at her thoughtfully, Koss replied , "With respect, T'Pol, nearly everyone involved in the melder movement has heard of your encounter."

_I do not doubt that,_ she thought to herself. "According to Captain Skon, Tolaris initiated a mating bond. Because I did not reciprocate the meld, the portion of my brain responsible for telepathy is continuing to swell."

"The pain must be great," Koss stated. "It is a tribute to your abilities that you do not demonstrate the discomfort at all times."

"I am Vulcan," she replied. "My nature is what it is. We have the ability to control our pain, much more so than other species. My lapses only occur when there is an increase in intensity in the headaches."

Koss was quiet for a moment before he continued his questioning. "Is the conditional fatal?" The question itself was blunt. The tone of his voice however, removed any perceived harshness.

"It is," T'Pol answered. "However, Captain Skon believes the fatality portion can be removed from the equation."

Koss looked at her askance. "By what method?"

"Completing the meld," T'Pol answered.

"I see. Am I to understand that to be the purpose of your wedding to Sopel?" Koss inquired.

T'Pol felt herself involuntarily bristle at the mention of the Prince's name. "That was the original purpose of the ceremony," she admitted.

"It is not now?" Koss questioned.

"No. A man on the Enterprise has grown ill...after your discussion last night, I have grown convinced that a meld may be the method in which to cure him," T'Pol answered carefully. She saw no reason to inform him of the nature of Trip's illness. Doing so could only cause further incrimination. _That is not the optimal choice,_ T'Pol reflected. _Regardless of what Soval has done._

"Are you and the man close acquaintances?" Koss asked.

T'Pol did not hesitate. "Yes." The lull in the conversation prompted T'Pol to continue. She was not certain why. Having only recently been reacquainted with Koss, she certainly did not know him well enough to make such confidences. Yet something within her drove her to say her peace. _Perhaps I tell him what I should have told the Commander? In case Commander Tucker does not make it to Vulcan in time?_ T'Pol dismissed the thought. It was highly illogical. Koss was not Commander Tucker. Disturbingly, however, the Vulcan beside her reminded her distinctly of the engineer.

For that reason, she continued. "He intercepted, under Captain Archer orders, the letter from your parents asking me to return to Vulcan to complete our marriage."

Koss raised an eyebrow at her description. "While I did not read the message, I doubt sincerely the correct verb for my parents' actions to be 'asked.'"

T'Pol nodded. "You are correct. More accurately, he intercepted their orders."

Koss' mouth quirked in the Vulcan non-smile. "I have heard much about human mating habits. While undoubtedly it is not all true, he must have been surprised to learn that our parents chose our mates."

Recalling Commander Tucker's reaction, T'Pol nodded. "He was. His argument was...quite convincing."

"It must have been," Koss agreed. "You chose to stay."

His words could not have affected T'Pol more if they had been a blow to the stomach. "Yes, I did. If it had not been for Commander Tucker, I would not have stayed aboard the Enterprise for even half of the first year," she acknowledged. "Of course, his argument was highly illogical and quite...human. He argued that I should do what I wanted to do. His species strongly believes in personal choice and he presumed it should apply to our species as well."

"A somewhat ethnocentric view."

"Yes."

"And yet, it was enough to convince you to stay?"

"Clearly."

Koss laced his fingers together before answering. "Then regardless of the semantics of his argument, I would venture to say that it is fortunate for our people that it was effective."

T'Pol looked at him quizzically. "I do not grasp your meaning."

"Surely you realize the benefits your work on the Enterprise is doing?" When T'Pol remained silent, he continued ahead, "You have managed to forge bonds during your short tenure on the Starfleet vessel that have eluded Vulcan Ambassadors for ninety-two years. Because of your efforts, our species grow closer. There are assuredly still prejudices amongst us, but do not doubt for a moment, T'Pol-a large portion of Vulcan society appreciates your service."

"Your parents do not. Nor does Ambassador Soval. Nor does Captain Vanik. In fact, the only Vulcans who seem to 'appreciate' my efforts are the Vulcans Without Logic," T'Pol pointed out.

Koss gave her a look which indicated that he would have laughed if his veins held red blood instead of green. "You have been away from our home world for a long time, T'Pol. Much has changed. There is revolution in the air for the first time since Surak. The melders are not alone in their quest for change."

"The revolution will be a peaceful one?" T'Pol asked.

"I am certain of it," Koss replied.

"Then I will take pleasure in seeing it succeed. I must admit, however, that I would not have thought you would have been amongst those in the revolution," T'Pol said honestly.

"Because of my parents?" Koss wondered.

"Parents do tend to dictate their children's behavior," she answered.

"Did yours?"

It was a valid point. Remembering Ambassador Soval's role in Commander Tucker's condition, T'Pol answered, "My father and I have opposing conceptions of reality."

"When I was a child," Koss began, "My parents purchased a Terran puzzle depicting an aquatic scene. It was composed of 10,000 pieces but my father was under the impression it would be quite simple because it was a human creation. Surely such a nave species was incapable of composing a puzzle that would be a challenge to a Vulcan. As I was a child, I immediately spied the brightest piece-a brilliant shade of red that closely resembles our sky during noon of a summer day. I began to try to place the piece where I believed its proper place was. My father promptly removed it. He contented there was no logic in placing a bright red piece amidst all of the blue. It was not until all of the other pieces were in their proper places that he conceded to having no other choice. The piece that had gained so much of my attention was a sample of colorful flora."

T'Pol looked at him questionably. "Humans are not logical. I doubt they frequently employ the use of logic in constructions of their puzzles."

Koss gave the non-smile again. "Our people's relationship with humans has needed someone who understood that, T'Pol. It is why your mission has been successful."

"It is late. I should return," T'Pol answered. She was not being unkind. However, the conversation had been draining of her, mentally and physically. She also anticipated Sopel's arrival early the next day and would need to awaken early to converse with him.

Koss understood. "I shall escort you back."

As they turned to walk in comfortable silence, Koss spoke again. "I should like to meet this Commander Tucker while he is on Vulcan."

"I shall attempt to arrange such a meeting," T'Pol promised. "I believe he would find your presence agreeable."

* * *

_Enterprise_

In sickbay, three very concerned faces were gathered around Commander Tucker. Travis, Hoshi, and Malcolm had been advised to keep their visit brief. Trip was not very coherent, and his whole body seemed to be shaking.

There was no doubt among the three that his condition was very serious.

"Dear God," Malcolm murmured, "He looks even worse than before." Involuntarily, Malcolm was seized with a slight grasp of panic. Trip couldn't die. He just couldn't. "Trip," he said softly, "I'm not sure if you can understand us, or not, but I just wanted to let you know we-I'm here. And we're waiting on you to get better. Happy endings, Trip, you must think happy endings. Please remember that."

When Malcolm stopped speaking, Hoshi took it as her turn to continue. It was quite obvious that the Lieutenant was struggling to control himself. By speaking, Hoshi both spoke to her friend and allowed Malcolm to grieve. "Trip," she whispered, "This is Hoshi. I also don't know how much of this you can understand, but I'm routing for you anyway." She lowered her voice even more as she bent to say softly into his ear, "And so is T'Pol."

Their friend stirred visibly at the mention of T'Pol. He even softly whispered her name. Hoshi's eyes glazed over at that and she was suddenly the one fighting off tears. Malcolm offered her his shoulder and she used it.

Travis glanced from the couple back to Trip. "Well," the Ensign began, "I also don't know if you can hear me, so you have to get better soon. You see, it seems I've lost a bet with the good Lieutenant Hess. So, I have to tell you, once you're conscious, that you have a nice ass. So, kindly be alright because we're all missing such a good view."

Malcolm and Hoshi looked a bit startled at that. But Malcolm grinned nonetheless. He could, after all, appreciate a good bum sighting.

Phlox appeared then, with the Captain by his side. The trio didn't have to be told to leave. They understood the Captain would want time alone with Trip. Respectfully, they filed out sickbay to give it to him.

Once they were alone, Archer turned to Phlox. "I was surprised that T'Lal did not choose to return to Vanick's ship with Ventik. Is T'Lal going to be alright?"

Phlox nodded. "She is still a Vulcan, Captain and has the Vulcan stamina. She simply needed rest. As her offering was not helping the Commander, she acquiesced. She and Ambassador V'Lar are currently sharing quarters."

Archer glanced down at his friend. "Do you think T'Pol can help him, Doctor?"

The Denobulan cocked his head. "I am not certain. I know she will try everything within her power. However, there is much we do not know about Vulcan medicine."

"Or Vulcan technology, or Vulcan customs, or Vulcan Ambassadors," snapped Archer. "You'd think that they'd realize that when they interact with other species and it has a direct effect on them, we'd have a right to know just a little about their damn secrets!"

Phlox looked at him for a moment before saying patiently, "May I remind you, Captain, that the Vulcans have been quite forthcoming concerning Commander Tucker. They have discussed very private mating rituals with considerable candor. In addition, T'Pol made appropriate arrangements as soon as she was alerted to his condition. I am uncertain what additional information or assistance you would find appropriate that they have not already given."

Archer would not be persuaded. "I want to know what caused this! How did he contact it, if it is a 'evolutionary' Vulcan illness?"

"Ventik and V'Lar both seemed quite unsure of that themselves. They cannot share what they do not know," Phlox advised.

Archer didn't have an answer for that. Phlox took the opportunity to continue, "The Vulcans have shared something they find of the utmost privacy, Captain. I hope you can respect that."

"I have," Archer replied moodily. "I haven't even said anything the Vulcan involvement in Trip's illness in the official logs. But if he dies because of it—"

"Then you would willingly betray the trust they have placed in you?" Phlox finished for him. "You will find, Captain, that Vulcans do not believe trustworthiness an emotion. If their trust is violated, you will undo years of Vulcan and human alliance. I don't think you would want that, nor would your father. I am certain Commander Tucker would not."

"Trip distrusts Vulcans more than I do," Archer argued. It was a weak point, and he knew it, but he felt like arguing.

"That would be unfortunate, if it were true, as his life lies in the hands of a Vulcan," Phlox noted. "Happily, I suspect you are wrong in your assessment, Captain Archer."


	34. Out Jumped The Vulcan Twin Suns In The Form Of Prince Sopel

T'Pol, having little strength left, was confined to the bed of Skon's guest bedroom. The pain she had been suppressing with growing difficulty with each progressive day had overcome her with the start of this new day. The overwhelming discomfort was enough that T'Pol greatly contemplated closing her eyes and permitting the pain to overwhelm. She did not. _My own life would not be the only one to suffer,_ she reminded herself.

Still, the effort to walk and perform daily functions was beyond T'Pol's current abilities. For that reason, she remained in bed and her betrothed, Prince Sopel, regarded her from his stance near the doorway.

T'Pol was not certain what she was expecting when she met Sopel. She was certain, however, that the haughty Vulcan in front of her was not it.

Deliberately, Sopel laced his fingers behind his back and fixed T'Pol with an icy stare. "Explain yourself, T'Pol," he said firmly. There was no pretense of pleasantry-or even feigned politeness in Sopel's voice.

_It is difficult to believe that this man is partaking of any type of revolution,_ T'Pol reflected. _His attitude is similar to that of Captain Vanik's._

"What information do you seek me to explain?" T'Pol asked.

"Why have I been summoned to you? It violates tradition," Sopel explained.

It did, T'Pol knew. Traditionally, the male would summon the female to the land of his family where they would be wed. Male and female were not traditionally to see one another before the marital ceremony. For the male to be summoned by the female was a direct violation of all tradition.

"Tradition is of the utmost importance to our union, T'Pol," Sopel continued. "We are both viewed as dissidents. For that reason, our union must observe more traditions than most other unions."

"We must post-pone the wedding by one day," T'Pol answered.

Sopel did not answer for a moment. Instead, he crossed the room, closing the distance between them. "You do not have that right," he said coldly. "The wedding will proceed as tradition dictates." "I may not have the right to post-pone the wedding. However, I do have the right to have in attendance to my wedding meal those that I want to be there. As they will not be able to attend until 24 hours from now, the wedding must therefore be post-poned, in accordance to my rights," T'Pol stated.

Sopel regarded her. His dark eyes held none of the warmth that Skon and Koss had possessed. T'Pol met his gaze and held it.

"Your logic is without fault," he replied. "Whose attendance do we wait for? Your mothers?"

"No. Mother has sent word but she shall be unable to attend as she is doing research on Earth. We will wait for my shipmates," T'Pol replied.

"Your shipmates?" Sopel mocked. "You have invited humans to our ceremony?"

T'Pol arched an eyebrow in confusion. "I have invited my colleagues, yes," she answered.

"I met your father at a conference a year ago," Sopel stated. "He was concerned your time with humans had contaminated you. I see he was correct about the accent. Apparently he was correct about the contamination as well."

T'Pol chose to ignore the insults. "From what I had heard of you and your career from Captain Skon, I did not believe you would be willing to find fault with my human acquaintances."

"You have heard of Terena, then?" Sopel asked. "My Andorian sexual partner?"

"Yes," T'Pol answered. "Although I believed there was more to your companionship than intercourse."

"Such as what?" Sopel demanded. "You have spent too much time amongst humans, T'Pol. Vulcans do not feel 'love,' as humans do. Nor are we consumed with the passions that Andorians have. There is no reason to assume my relationship is based on anything other than sexual relief."

"Vulcans do not feel love," T'Pol agreed. "And we do not feel passion. We are capable of developing affection. We can cherish our mates."

"Rest assured, T'Pol. I do not hold affection for Terena. Nor do I cherish her."

T'Pol greatly ached to send Sopel away and close here eyes to be rid of him. But she could not. "I do not understand," she admitted finally. "Casual intercourse is not common amongst our people."

"I am an anthropologist. I study relationships between Vulcans and Andorians. I have been accepted into many previously undisclosed rituals amongst the Andorian people. Rituals they would not dare permit another Vulcan to view."

"Because of your relationship with Terena?" T'Pol asked incredulously.

"Yes." For all that pride was an emotion, Sopel was full of it.

"Is she aware of her status as a research tool?" T'Pol questioned.

Again Sopel's darkened eyes stared down at her. Again, T'Pol met them with her own questioning gaze. In reply, Sopel answered, "She does not. If she did, I would not be privy to the revelations our intimacy has brought."

T'Pol was having a similar reaction to Sopel as she had experienced with Soval. Fortunately for Sopel, she was too tired to argue with him as she had with her father. Still, she was obligated to point out that, "Your actions betray true Vulcans."

"Oh?" Sopel mocked. "How precisely do you believe I have betrayed our people?"

"Vulcans do not lie. We do not practice deceit. Our people may act arrogant from time to time, but that is because we believe we are superior. We demonstrate this supposed superiority through our actions-by showing others how we believe they should behave. If we act disgracefully, this is incongruous with our people's beliefs," T'Pol answered. The answer tired her, and she leaned to rest her head upon her pillow.

"Those objections matter only if you value emotion. I do not. My interactions with Terena shall promote the greater good. Vulcan-Andorian relationships shall prosper far beyond what they currently are, once I have supplied our people with the knowledge Terena has passed on to me," Sopel answered. "As a result of my sacrifices—"

"You have sacrificed nothing," T'Pol interrupted. "It is disreputable of you to claim you have." _He is no different than David,_ T'Pol reflected inwardly. _I have refused to admit to my affection for Commander Tucker because he was the same species as my previous ill chosen companion. Yet here stands a member of my own species willing to betray the trust of a mate for their own selfish reasons._

"Regardless, it is none of your concern. I shall continue my relationship with Terena, and you shall continue your association with the humans. After the initial year, of course," Sopel avowed.

Involuntarily, T'Pol's heart rate increased. "After the initial year?" she echoed.

Sopel rewarded her with an appropriately condescending look. "You are aware of the tradition, are you not? The male and the female must live together for the first year."

_Of course I am aware of it. It is the reason I broke my engagement to Koss._ A decision that was looking increasingly unwise. "I had been under the impression that I would return to my ship and you would return to your station."

"That shall be the arrangement. After the initial year, we need contact only for official functions. But tradition shall be upheld, T'Pol."

"I will not return with you to the station," T'Pol said firmly. It was not as firm as she would have liked. But that was not a reflection on her character as it was a reflection of her illness.

"You have no choice. My work as an anthropologist—"

"Can be done from a post on a starship."

"Not my type of work," Sopel answered easily. "Andorians do not live as long as we do, T'Pol. I must return to Terena."

"I must return to my humans. They too, have short lives," T'Pol replied.

"You forget, you are marrying a prince. Our roles are not reversed."

"I agreed to marry you solely on the condition that I be allowed to return to my ship."

"Then it is unfortunate for you that you shall not be returning immediately," Sopel stated. "However, I shall agree to a compromise. I shall not keep you the entire year-only until you have conceived a child."

The thought was not a welcome one. In T'Pol's newly emotional state, it was horrifying. Seeing her reaction, Sopel raised an eyebrow. "My line must continue, T'Pol. Surely I do not have to explain that to you."

"What will Terena think, when your wife comes to live with you and share your bed?" T'Pol demanded.

The left side of Sopel's mouth twisted and his eyebrow raised in the form of a definite smirk. "Terena believes I am marrying against my will to please my parents and to produce an offspring."

"What makes you certain I will not relate to her what you have related to me?" T'Pol questioned.

"Because surely you know that if you were to be killed on a space station lying in the borders of Vulcan-Andorian space, no one would be surprised."

The coldness of his threat made it seem that much more sincere. Still, T'Pol held his gaze. "Our Vulcan ancestors from the days before Surak would be proud," she said, making certain her voice was as equally cold.

"The humans have contaminated you," Sopel replied. "You confuse logic with the emotion of caring."

T'Pol finally broke his gaze as she leaned her head back on her pillow and closed her eyes briefly, momentarily allowing the pain to win. Reassurting her claim on her body, T'Pol opened her eyes. "Perhaps," she answered. "It is not a decision I regret."

"I will grant you leave, T'Pol, as your illness threatens to overwhelm you. Are you certain you do not wish to meld before the ceremony?" Sopel asked.

"No."

"Very well. Then I shall call for you when your crew arrives. Be advised that I am not a patient Vulcan, T'Pol."

* * *

Koss had promised to visit T'Pol later that evening. When he arrived, T'Lara ushered him into her room, explaining, "Her illness threatens to take her. The visit with Sopel earlier today extracted a high cost."

"I trust it invoked emotions she was unable to control because of her weakened state?" Koss prompted.

"Yes," T'Lara responded. "Skon has summoned Sopel. They are going to meld in order for Sopel to absorb the bulk of her emotions, as he can control them."

Lowering his voice slightly, Koss greeted T'Pol, "I have come, T'Pol, as I said I would. But I assume you are not up for a game of chess tonight, after all."

T'Pol opened her eyes and shook her head slightly. "No. I am afraid not." Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. _I can barely lift my head from my pillow._ The emotions did threaten to overwhelm her. Her pain had ceased to be caused only by certain emotions. Now all emotions overwhelmed her. _I grow weary of trying to control them. I grow weary of disowning them. I grow weary of having them._

_I am a Vulcan! I should not have emotions!_

Koss surveyed the Vulcan lying on the bed in front of him. Her breathing was labored and audible. Sweat dampened her brow. Yet she was clearly still struggling for control. Her hands remained at her side, curled in fists which jerked regardless of her wishes. With each additional jerk, her fists tightened again.

Presently, Sopel and Skon arrived. Koss reflected that Sopel bore the look of a child after completing the kahs-wan. Smug. Victorious. Koss suppressed the urge to physically correct the expression upon Sopel's face.

Coming to T'Pol's bedside, Sopel laced his hands slowly behind his back. For several moments he simply watched T'Pol, and did not speak.

Koss could take no more. "Are you not going to do help her?" he asked.

Sopel still held the victorious look. "We will need to be alone," he stated finally.

"No," T'Pol said forcefully. "They will stay."

The look did not vanish from Sopel's face. "T'Pol, I understand that your illness is producing emotions, even if this could have been prevented by cementing the ceremony today instead of waiting for tomorrow. Surely, however, you do not express fear?"

T'Pol's fists tightened until they could tighten no more. Taking a deep breathe in order to compose herself, she again met his gaze as she replied, "In the past two years, I have overcome Suliban, Klingon, Romulan, and Andorian forces and escaped scenarios that many would believe to be un-winnable. You do not frighten me."

Koss noted with pleasure that the look fell from Sopel's face. T'Pol's breathing grew more labored, but she continued on, determined to say her peace. "However, I do not trust you anymore than my aforementioned foes. For that reason, they will stay. Or I shall die. If that occurs, you shall not have an heir."

"Fine," Sopel answered. "I assume you still do not want to initiate the mating bond?"

"No. That can wait," T'Pol answered.

"Fine. You are perhaps too weak at this state to reciprocate regardless." Sopel leaned forward, pressing his fingers to T'Pol's face. After a moment of contact, he closed his eyes-no doubt an effort to control the emotions he was receiving from T'Pol. Koss waited in fascination. He watched as T'Pol's face became visibly less constricted. Her fists uncurled and her hands stopped jerking. She was again in control. Here, in front of him, was living proof of the validity of the melder community.

After an additional moment, Sopel pulled away. Koss noted he again had the smug look plastered upon his face. "I trust you are more in control?" Sopel inquired of T'Pol.

"Indeed," T'Pol answered. Her voice was firmer and noticeably louder.

"The effects will not last long, but they shall last until tomorrow," Sopel promised. "But surely, T'Pol, you do not truly find me as repulsive as raw animal flesh?"

"You have seen my mind. You know what I know," T'Pol answered.

"Indeed. Which is why I now quite look forward to meeting this Commander Tucker of yours," Sopel replied.


	35. To Dry Up All The Rain

Jonathan Archer was not pleased. Not pleased at all.

"What the hell is the matter with him?" Archer demanded of a mostly innocent Ambassador V'Lar. He would have been demanding information from Dr. Phlox, had Phlox not been in surgery. It was said surgery that upset Archer so greatly.

"Commander Tucker is currently undergoing surgery. The surgery was necessary because in your species a sudden rush of adrenaline can cause a spasm in an artery which can cause it to temporarily close," Ambassador V'Lar replied.

"His artery closed?" Archer repeated in disbelief. "He was perfectly healthy-he works out every day and eats right with the exception of the occasional piece of pecan pie. How the hell did his artery close?"

"His condition was caused by his body's reaction to the pon far," V'Lar stated.

"I figured that much, Ambassador," Archer spat. "What I want to know is how he contracted this illness in the first place."

"Captain—" Ambassador V'Lar began before she was interrupted by Archer.

"And don't give me any of that crap about Vulcan privacy or logic! A man is about to die because of your people. I think that deserves a little explanation, don't you?"

"Captain Archer," V'Lar began again, "Dr. Ventik and I have already told you everything we can—"

"Yes, you've told me everything you can, but not everything you know, isn't that right?" Archer seethed.

V'Lar remained calm. She did not take offense, as she understood that Commander Tucker's illness was taking its toll on the Captain. Clasping her hands behind her back, V'Lar studied the man in front of her. "As Ventik and I have explained, Captain, we do not know how the condition was contracted."

"Then give me a conjecture," Archer demanded.

Typically, V'Lar sympathized with humans. Indeed, she had lectured T'Pol on the importance of understanding them-and their emotions. Regardless of her empathy, she could not share the truth-or what she believed to be the truth-with him. Too much was at stake. While Vulcan-human relationships were important, they did not take precedence over the very structure of Vulcan society. Thus, she replied with a very uncharacteristic answer, "Vulcans do not conjecture, Captain."

The phrase was unexpected from V'Lar, and the surprise showed visibly on Archer's face. The line about what Vulcans do and do not do was more T'Pol's style. It was her standard line of denying whatever emotion Archer suspected.

_Denial._

The realization hit Archer almost immediately. "Bullshit," he answered. He was no longer yelling. Instead, his voice was calm and his entire demeanor had changed. "Vulcans are quite PROUD of the fact that they've been in space when humans were still using horses as their most advanced form of transportation. You wouldn't be as advanced in your space travel if you weren't damn good scientists. And scientists do conjecture. It's part of their job."

V'Lar paused. "You are correct, of course, Captain. However, I have no logical explanation for what has occurred."

"Forget LOGIC!" Archer snapped.

"I could no more forget logic than you could proceed with your questioning in a calm fashion," V"Lar replied.

"CALM? You expect me to be calm when one of my crew-and a very dear friend-is dying?"

"No, Captain, I do not. That was my point."

Archer took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. "You want to use logic? Then fine, we'll use logic. Logically, I don't think T'Pol was responsible. She was too surprised and upset to have been the reason. That leaves Soval. Soval was clearly sick and he and Trip had some type of interaction in his quarters. So, did Soval have pon far when he was aboard my ship?"

"I did not examine Ambassador Soval. It is impossible for me to say for certain," she answered.

"I'll take that as a yes," Archer responded. "How was the disease transmitted?"

"The usual means for sharing of pon far is sexual intercourse. Dr. Phlox has assured us that this did not take place between your officer and Ambassador Soval," V'Lar countered.

Archer sighed. It was clear she wasn't going to give in. "Fine. Tell me how they intend to treat it on Vulcan. How is that going to be any more effective than what we tried here, with T'Lal?"

"I apologize, Captain, but I cannot provide the answers you seek. Perhaps you should have inquired from Captain Skon," V'Lar answered.

It was fortunate for both Archer and T'Lal that they were interrupted at that point. When Phlox's voice came over the intercom, the doctor sounded very subdued. Archer answered accordingly. "Go ahead, Doctor," Archer greeted. His anger was forgotten-only to be replaced by immense anxiety for his friend.

"Commander Tucker is out of surgery. We were able to prevent any sizeable damage. His condition is rapidly decreasing as we speak, however."

"Will he make it to Vulcan?" Archer demanded.

"I don't know," Phlox replied.

Archer resisted the urge to yell at the doctor, to demand to know what type of doctor he was if he didn't know whether his patient would live or die. Instead, he asked only, "Can I see him?"

Phlox nodded his agreement, and Archer entered sickbay to take his vigil.

* * *

Malcolm Reed took a deep breath, concentrated his aggression on the bag in front of him, and let go.

_One._

That was for Trip, for being sick.

_Two._

That was for Vulcan, for being an additional two hours away.

_Three._

That was for T'Pol, for leaving. If she had been here, everyone would have felt a little bit more at ease.

_Four._

That was for whomever was responsible for transmitting this Vulcan illness in the first place.

_Five._

That was for his dearly departed great uncle, who had been the first to have aqua phobia.

_Six._

That was for his uncle, for overcoming his fears.

_Seven._

That was for himself, for being unable to overcome his own fears.

_Eight._

That was for Shuttlepod One, because really, that's where it all began.

_Nine._

That was for Trip Tucker, who insisted on weaseling his way past the boundaries of propriety that Malcolm had established.

_Ten. Eleven. Twelve._

That was for his father, for being right about fraternization.

"Your timing is considerably off, Lieutenant," said an unfamiliar voice. Malcolm turned abruptly and noticed a Vulcan female he was unfamiliar with standing in the doorway of the gym.

"I wasn't aware I was being watched," Malcolm replied. "If I had, perhaps I would been paying closer attention to my timing." If he were a tad snottier today than he would have been previously, it was due entirely to the condition of the man lying in sickbay.

T'Lal gave him the ever reliable eyebrow raise. "It is a public area, is it not?"

"Yes," Malcolm admitted.

"Then why did you not take into account the possibility that others could be observing your activities?" T'Lal questioned. Malcolm sighed in frustration. "I just had other things on my mind. I'll work on my timing." With that, he turned back to bag in front of him and again released his dissatisfaction.

_Thirteen._

That was for Trip, for being in surgery.

_Fourteen._

That was for Ambassador Soval, who clearly hadn't told them the whole truth.

_Fifteen. Sixteen.Seventeen._

That was for Doctor Phlox and Captain Archer, who clearly were not telling the entire truth about Trip's conditon.

_Eighteen._

That was for himself, for messing up his timing yet again.

Malcolm expected T'Lal would move to another portion of the gym but she did not. Instead, she remained where she stood, watching him thoughtfully. It was too much for Malcolm to bear. He stopped taking his frustrations out on the gym bag and turned around again to look at T'Lal.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Malcolm asked in annoyance.

"I am curious as to why you are demonstrating aggression towards the object," T'Lal questioned.

"Well, punching the bag is a bit better than punching another person, isn't it?" Malcolm rejoined.

Both of T'Lal's eyebrows raised at that. "Why do you desire to cause bodily harm to another person?"

Again Malcolm sighed. "I don't-not really. It's just...a good friend of my is ill, and I'm afraid I was taking out my concerns on the bag." Malcolm gave a weak smile.

"Is he a fellow crewman?" T'Lal inquired.

"Yes," Malcolm replied. "Commander Tucker. He's a bit too weak to take it out on him, you see."

The small joke was completely lost upon the Vulcan. "It would not be appropriate to provoke an injured being," she said solemnly.

"No," Malcolm said with resignation, "It would not."

"I have often heard that humans were violent creatures," T'Lal remarked. "I suspect now that it is true."

_If that's your conclusion now, I'll certainly not let you know just how much I enjoyed this exercise,_ Malcolm thought perversely. "From what T'Pol has shown me of your martial arts, I'd say Vulcans are pretty capable of being violent themselves."

T'Lal looked far more interested in that statement than any proper Vulcan should. "Indeed?" she questioned. "Are you proclaiming proficiency in kareel-ifla or ponn-ifla?"

"I believe T'Pol called it ke-tar-ya," Malcolm responded.

"Indeed?" T'Lal repeated. "The ke-tar-ya is one of our oldest-and conversely, most violent, forms of self defense. I am curious as to why T'Pol thought it appropriate to share it with you."

"I am the ship's armory officer," Malcolm explained. "She likely thought it would be useful in my job of defending the ship."

"I see. In that she was wise," T'Lal conceded. "Even Vulcan ships have tactical officers."

"I imagine they're quite efficient," Malcolm replied.

"They are," T'Lal agreed. "But they are not so efficient as to be able to practice ke-tar-ya without a partner."

"Nor am I," he admitted.

"I would be prepared to assist you," T'Lal offered. At Malcolm's look of surprise, she added, "It would relieve your tensions with far greater ease than hitting an immovable object, I believe."

"Perhaps you're right," Malcolm agreed. "But you'll have to forgive me if I don't understand the reason for your concern."

T'Lal regarded him steadily before answering. "I have met your friend."

"Of course. You must have brought the treatment from the Vulcan ship," Malcolm figured.

T'Lal's left eyebrow raised as she responded. "Yes...I was responsible for the treatment." She paused before adding, more quietly, "It was ineffective."

To Malcolm, a man who frequently suppressed his own emotions but certainly still held them, it sounded strangely like she was blaming herself. "Well, that wasn't your fault," he offered.

"No, I suspect it was not. Regardless, as Surak would say, 'the spear in the other's heart is the spear in your own: you are he.' I grieve with thee, Lieutenant. Especially knowing that a Vulcan illness is to blame."

"Thank you," Malcolm replied. "Now, about that practicing..."

* * *

Two hours later, Archer was still at Trip's side when he was hailed by Lieutenant Hess. In Trip's absence, the Lieutenant had taken not only his place in engineering, but his place on the bridge as well.

"We are currently in orbit," Hess informed the Captain. "Vulcan Space Central has welcomed us. We are clear to send down a shuttle whenever we're ready. Captain Skon has sent us the co-ordinates."

"Very well, Lieutenant. Contact Ambassador V'Lar, Sub-Commander T'Lal, Lt. Reed, and Ensigns Mayweather and Sato and tell them to meet me in the shuttle bay. Archer out."

* * *

Phlox was not pleased about having to remove Commander Tucker from sickbay so soon after surgery. The doctor understood, however, that the expedition was in all probability Trip's last chance. Thus, he complained minimally. His patient traveled on a stretcher in the first of two shuttle pods their journey necessitated. Ambassador V'Lar traveled in Shuttlepod One alongside Trip, Phlox and Captain Archer. Following closely behind were Lieutenant Reed, Ensign Sato, Ensign Mayweather, and Sub-Commander T'Lal in Shuttlepod Two.

Archer expected the co-ordinates to take them to the Vulcan High Command center, or Security Head Quarters. He was unquestionably surprised when instead of a tall, imposing building, their shuttles landed beside a medium sized, informal structure that was, undeniably, a personal home.

Turning to Ambassador V'Lar, he questioned, "Do you recognize where we are?"

"This is the home of Captain Skon, where no doubt T'Pol is staying."

"Is the nearest hospital very far?" Archer asked.

V'Lar raised an eyebrow in response. "If you are referring to Commander Tucker's condition, I doubt very highly that he shall be treated at a hospital. I believe he shall be treated at the residence of Skon."

Archer started to speak again, but Phlox interrupted him. "Perhaps it would be best, Captain, if we were to exit the shuttle and find out. Preferably quickly." The unspoken urgency in Phlox's message incited Archer to take his advice.

"I'd forgotten how hot it is on Vulcan," Archer grumbled as he struggled with the stretcher.

"I've never been here, but it does remind me uncomfortably of a particular summer holiday in the Sahara," Malcolm remarked, coming over to assist Archer. Although Archer's ego protested, his body gave in and relished the armory officer's assistance.

Noticing the struggle Archer was having, T'Lal moved to assist Malcolm as well. "I was unaware that humans took expeditions to deserts." As Archer, T'Lal, and Malcolm carried the stretcher up stone path, the remaining members of their party lagged slightly behind them, no doubt allowing their bodies to adjust to the different atmosphere of the planet as well.

"We don't, particularly," Malcolm admitted.

"Especially not in the summer," Archer added.

"However, my father believed I was in need of additional character building," Malcolm supplied. "His result was a month long obstacle course in the Sahara desert."

"Hmm. Sounds like you should have been on Zobral's planet** instead of Trip and me," Archer puffed good naturedly, speaking of the last desert expedition he and his chief engineer had endured.

"I believe I did visit that planet, Sir," Malcolm retorted with a slight smirk.

"Saved our asses, I believe," Archer agreed with a grim smile.

T'Lal looked impressed. "You are an ever increasingly efficient armory officer, Lieutenant Reed," she mused.

"Yes, he is. We're very proud of him," Hoshi put in. The tone was definitely possessive, Archer decided. Briefly, he wondered if he was the only one on his ship that faced lonely nights.

The figure of Captain Skon emerged from the stone building. After the traditional greeting, Skon glanced down at Commander Tucker's figure on the stretcher. "T'Pol will be immensely pleased with Commander Tucker's presence."

"As are we," came a voice behind Archer. The Captain was certain he saw the briefest emotion of dread flicker across Skon's face. It was brief, but it was there. It was followed by something that closely resembled the look that came over T'Pol when she was angry. Anxiously, Archer turned his head to get a glance at the speaker. He was the Vulcan that had come aboard his ship along with Skon, T'Pau, and V'Lar. He was accompanied by a second Vulcan that Archer definitely didn't recognize. Introductions didn't take long, however.

Skon straightened. "Welcome to my home, Sumarek. Greetings to you as well, Koss."


	36. And The Itsy Bitsy Spider Crawled Up The Spout Again

"Captain Skon," Sumarek greeted. The Vulcan Archer assumed to be Koss stood quietly behind Sumarek. Whether it was out of deference or something else-remorse?-Archer did not know. Nor did he particularly care at the moment.

"Excuse me, but since we all know each other by name now, do you think we could get down to helping Trip?" Archer demanded.

Skon realized that the human Captain had no idea of the gravity of the situation. Archer had no way of knowing how they intended to cure Commander Tucker. Even if he did know, the human could not have any inkling of the impropriety involved in speaking of it in front of Sumarek, head of Vulcan Justice Department.

"I appreciate your desire for haste, Captain Archer," Skon stated. "Once I attend to the presence of Sumarek and Koss, we shall focus on Commander Tucker. In the meantime—"

"I don't think you understand the need for haste at all," Archer retorted. "Trip is dying—"

"I am aware of the severity of the situation, Captain," Skon replied. Inwardly, the Vulcan lamented that his attempt to pacify the human had been unsuccessful.

"Captain Archer is quite correct, Skon," Sumarek interrupted. "Commander Tucker is obviously ill, judging from his unconscious state. It would appear that he requires medical attention immediately."

"Then perhaps your visit should be postponed," Skon offered.

Sumarek shook his head. "No, I do not believe so. According to what Koss has told me regarding how you intend to treat Commander Tucker's condition, my presence as head of Vulcan Security Council is absolutely essential."

Skon tilted his head and straightened his back. The patented Vulcan anger look, definitely. Archer wondered momentarily why these people even bothered to pretend they didn't have emotions. The reason for Skon's outrage became quite clear when the Vulcan spoke again, "A spy."

Skon's voice did not change in tone. Regardless, his intended venom was quite clear. His accusation was directed towards Koss and was a statement, with no pretense of needing an answer.

"What exactly do you plan on doing to Trip that would call for the Security Council to be involved?" Archer demanded.

It was Sumarek who answered. "A custom with which you have been exposed before, Captain. You do recall the situation with Tolaris, do you not?"

Ignoring the confused looks upon his crew's faces, Archer nodded. "Tolaris' presence caused a lot of...discomfort for T'Pol. But what does Tolaris have to do with Trip?"

"He personally has nothing to do with Commander Tucker," Sumarek responded. "You recall the process of melding, Captain?"

"Yes, but—"

"That is how Skon intends to treat your Commander Tucker's illness," Sumarek finished.

"But the melding-it made T'Pol sick," Archer protested.

"It is exceedingly unlikely that your Commander Tucker shall suffer from the same illness," Skon answered. "Pa'Nar Syndrome affects specific targets in the Vulcan neurology, which differs fundamentally from the human counterpart."

"If the procedure is safe, then why is a representative of the Security Council present?" Malcolm demanded, momentarily forgetting the chain of command. Archer didn't mind-it was a very reasonable question after all. Even if the Captain did already have a sneaking suspicion.

"Melding is not an activity approved of by Vulcan society at large," Sumarek answered. "Safety level is not the chief concern."

"As I recall," Archer responded, "your chief concerns involved stigmatizing members of your own species out of bigotry and intolerance."

"Captain." Phlox's voice was low. Archer knew it was meant to be a warning. Not necessarily a challenge to his command. More of a warning to remind the Captain that he was behaving in a manner that was far from diplomatic.

However, diplomacy was far from the foremost concern on Archer's mind. Ignoring Phlox, he continued, directing his words towards Sumarek. "I know you think humans are inferior—"

"On the contrary, Captain, I have given you no indication of how I regard humans," Sumarek stated calmly.

The Vulcan's calmness only provided further irritation to Archer. "Most of your species regards us as inferior," he continued impatiently. "And you may very well believe that too. But our inferior species rid itself of such bigotry and prejudice decades ago."

"Your dealings with Vulcans have not always demonstrated your lack of prejudice, Captain," Sumarek answered. Again, he was calm.

"Maybe not," Archer conceded. "But if I had the capability to save the life of one of your people, I would never even think to withhold the cure because of petty intolerance."

"You mistake my intention, Captain Archer," Sumarek replied, ever tranquil. "I have no plans to prevent the melding from taking place."

Archer was surprised, to say the least. Skon spoke for him, "If you do not plan to prevent the melding, why are you here?"

"Since the Sub-Commander's incident with Yuris, there has been much...discussion concerning melds, as you are aware, Skon. Since then we have been attempting to gain as much information on the activity as possible," Sumarek informed him.

"Through the usage of spies?" Skon questioned.

"The presence of Koss was indeed part of the mission," Sumarek answered deftly. "In fact, it is because of Koss' testimony concerning the medical benefits of Sopel's meld on Sub-Commander T'Pol that I am here tonight."

"Then you shall permit the activity to take place?" Skon questioned, lifting his left eyebrow in the only demonstration of surprise his people would have found acceptable.

Sumarek nodded. "I shall be a spectator. If the meld is as successful with Commander Tucker as it was with Sub-Commander T'Pol—"

"Hold on—" Archer interrupted. "What do you mean by 'if'? You aren't certain?"

"The melding process is not one that is fully understood by our people, Captain," Skon began.

"I won't allow Trip to become a guinea pig," Archer stated stubbornly.

Skon started to reply, but he was promptly interrupted by the sound of Commander Tucker stirring on the stretcher. The sounds coming from the engineer's mouth made it clear the man was in a considerable amount of pain. Fortunately, Phlox had come prepared and quickly came to Trip's side, scanning him with a tricorder. T'Lal came quickly to his side and surveyed the results. "He has entered the plak tow," she informed the humans. "The blood fever. You may have ethical dilemmas involved in the usage of melding, but if you continue to do nothing, Commander Tucker shall die."

Archer glanced down at his friend, and watched with horror as his blue eyes flew open and rolled back into his head. Skon, seeing his concern, added, "I would estimate that your Commander has less than two hours of his life left at this rate, Captain. I recommend we proceed with all due haste."

Archer nodded reluctantly. "Fine. Do whatever it takes to save him," he said softly.

Silently, Skon motioned them into his home. Once inside, they were greeted by T'Pol, T'Lara, and T'Pau. T'Pol's eyes fell immediately upon Koss. "I have heard of your betrayal, Koss," she said. "While I do not have the time now to discuss it, I am certain you are not so different from your parents after all."

"Wow," Travis whispered to Hoshi, "How did they hear us when they were inside and we were outside?"

T'Pol looked at the young Ensign as she replied, "As someone once told me, Ensign, I have very good ears. Captain Archer, please know that I have every intention of doing my best to save Commander Tucker's life. However, you should be aware that forty percent of Vulcan males who reach the plak tow status do not survive."

Archer stared at her for a moment, fighting to keep control. Finally, he said, "I know you will, T'Pol. But maybe you should get started?"

"Indeed," T'Pol answered. "I would normally be able to lift the Commander myself. However, my own illness prevents that. I require assistance."

Before anyone else could volunteer, T'Lal bent over and gently picked up Commander Tucker effortlessly. T'Lara motioned for T'Lal to follow her as she lead the science officer and Commander Tucker to the guest bedroom.

Archer had forgotten entirely that T'Pol was ill. With news of the wedding, Archer believed that T'Pol had been healed. "T'Pol, what about your illness?" he asked. "Are you—"

"If Commander Tucker survives, then I shall as well," T'Pol answered cryptically.

That didn't reassure Archer, but all he could do was nod as T'Pol turned to walk in the direction that T'Lal, T'Lara, and Commander Tucker had gone.

It was at that precise moment that the sound was first heard. Archer couldn't place it, exactly. It sounded slightly like someone pounding on a drum, he thought. From behind him, he heard Malcolm grumble, "Who's banging a bloody gong?"

T'Pol's back stiffened and she stopped, momentarily. She looked as though she were going to continue, when Skon placed a hand on her shoulder. Archer was amazed. From everything he knew, Vulcans didn't touch each other-ever.

"T'Pol, you must complete the ceremony," Skon said quietly.

"I will not," she answered defiantly. "He intends to take me off world following the ceremony. I will not allow it. Commander Tucker will die if I do."

"You have no choice," Koss stated. "This is not an equivalent of our betrothal, T'Pol. You must marry Sopel."

"Is that the reason for your betrayal, Koss?" T'Pol demanded. "Revenge for my choosing the Enterprise over you? How very emotional of you."

Koss wisely chose not to point out that she herself was behaving in quite an emotional fashion. She had more than sufficient cause, he supposed. "No," he answered, "this is not about revenge, T'Pol."

The Vulcans were speaking quietly, but not quietly enough to escape detection by the humans-and Denobulan- who remained in the room with them. T'Pol's crewmates watched the scene in awe-when had T'Pol been engaged to this Koss fellow? When had she chosen to stay on their ship instead of marrying him? And why didn't any of them know about it? Archer, who liked to think he knew a great deal of her secrets, was even surprised.

"I will not do this. Commander Tucker needs me," T'Pol stated firmly.

"You do not have a choice, T'Pol," Skon informed her kindly.

"Actually she does," T'Lal stated, re-appearing behind T'Pol. "Perhaps it is because of your sex that you have forgotten the option of the koon-ut-kalifee."

Archer turned a questioning look towards Hoshi, who looked thoughtful, but could only shrug.

"I cannot chose Commander Tucker for the ritual," T'Pol answered. "He is too ill. He is barely conscious."

"I am aware of that. I would not suggest Commander Tucker even if he were ill. While he is no doubt strong, even the strongest human male is only half as strong as a Vulcan male. To win the koon-ut-kalifee, one would need to be more cunning and resourceful in their fighting habits. In addition, if your choice was the correct one, he could release you as Sopel refuses to do."

"That is true," T'Pol conceded.

Koss spoke up. "I would be honored to assist you, T'Pol."

"I do not trust you," she answered.

"It is not wise to trust a spy," T'Lal agreed. When Koss looked as though he would protest, T'Lal ignored him and continued, "However, I believe your Lieutenant Reed would be capable and willing."

Malcolm perked up at the mention of his name, although he had been following the conversation intently. T'Pol looked thoughtful but finally beckoned him to follow her.

"Where are they going?" Archer asked, as his science officer and armory officer disappeared into a room and the door slid shut.

"I believe the Sub-Commander is making certain Lieutenant Reed understands the ritual she is about to ask him to undertake," T'Lal answered.

"And what ritual is that?" Hoshi piqued up. "For some reason, I can't figure out the translation. It's Vulcan, but it sounds like a different form."

"It is ancient Vulcan," Skon answered. "It can roughly be translated to 'the challenge.'"

* * *

Malcolm took in his surroundings and shook his head. They were in a _loo_. There was humor in the situation, the Englishman knew, but the grim scenario was leaving little leeway for laughter. He looked forward to being able to share with Commander Tucker the fact that he had been in a Vulcan toilet, discussing T'Pol's wedding rituals while Trip lay ill in the next room. Malcolm could only hope that Trip would live long enough to hear the story.

"Well, Sub-Commander," Malcolm said with feigned cheer, "what is the koon-ut-kalifee and why are we discussing it in the loo?"

"As you are most likely aware, Lieutenant, I am betrothed." Malcolm nodded, and she continued. "The 'gong' as you described it, was the sound of my betrothed calling me to his ritual wedding grounds. However, the Vulcan I am to marry wishes to take me off world as soon as the ceremony occurs."

"But you have to perform the meld with Trip," Malcolm protested.

T'Pol nodded. "Yes, I must. However, according to Vulcan rituals, the only way I can call off the marriage is through the kalifee, which can roughly be translated to 'the challenge.'"

"What's involved in this challenge?" Malcolm questioned.

"While I cannot reject my betrothed myself, I can chose another male as my champion. The confrontation will take the form of battle," T'Pol stated.

"You wish for me to be the champion," Malcolm surmised.

T'Pol nodded. "Before you answer, you should be aware that it is a battle to the death."

"But if I refuse, then both you and Trip shall die, correct?" Malcolm asked.

"Yes," T'Pol answered. There was no way she could bond with Sopel if he kept her from Commander Tucker.

Malcolm demonstrated no hesitation in his answer. "The Captain, Trip, and Travis are explorers, Sub-Commander. They are on the Enterprise for the thrill of 'boldly going where no man has gone before.' You and Hoshi are scientists-on the Enterprise to 'seek out new civilizations.' I am neither."

"How do you classify yourself?" T'Pol wondered.

"I am a soldier. All soldiers are taught to kill. We hope we do not have to, but we do not hesitate when our men are under attack. Your betrothed threatens the lives of two of the Enterprise's crew. I will end that threat, by any means necessary. It is my duty."

As they rose, T'Pol reminded him, "Sopel shall consider it his duty to kill as well."

"If he is successful, the Captain has been appraised of my funeral preferences," Malcolm answered seriously. As an afterthought, he added, "He's not going to be pleased with this arrangement, Sub-Commander."

"I shall take care of it, Lieutenant," she answered.

* * *

When Malcolm and T'Pol exited the Vulcan restroom, she immediately turned her attention to Captain Archer. "I must contend with Sopel at the present. Lieutenant Reed is going to assist me. I will do my best to return before the two hours has passed. In case that does not occur, perhaps you would prefer to stay with Commander Tucker."

Archer didn't protest, but simply nodded. "I don't know what's involved in this challenge, T'Pol, but I know both your life and Trip's depends on it. Please hurry back. The Enterprise-and I-need you both."

T'Pol turned to Hoshi. "I suggest you come as well, Ensign." She did not say why, and Hoshi didn't dare question.

The three Enterprise crew members lined up behind T'Lara and Sumarek. T'Pol turned "Let us go. I find the clamor of the 'gong' to be quite irritating on the auditory senses." With that, the wedding party left.

Travis whistled softly. "I don't think I liked the secrecy of that last exchange between the Sub-Commander and Lieutenant Reed," he remarked.

Phlox clicked his tongue. "It's best not to dwell on concepts we are incapable of understanding, Ensign. Now, perhaps we should make use of our time and comfort Commander Tucker in the Sub-Commander's absence?"

"Come," Skon announced, "I shall lead the way."

After Skon, Archer, Travis and Phlox had disappeared into the back bedroom, T'Pau turned to V'Lar and raised a disapproving eyebrow. "T'Pol brings many outworlders to our sacred ceremonies. I do not know why T'Lara permits it."

V'Lar shook her head. "The outworlders are directly involved, T'Pau. We could not exclude them when they are so affected by our actions."

T'Pau raised her other eyebrow and responded, "Perhaps. If it were left to my discretion, I would never permit outworlders to partake in the kalifee."

* * *

After meeting the rest of the wedding party-consisting mostly of guards, but containing musicians as well-T'Lara, Sumarek, and the three Enterprise crew members arrived on the wedding grounds.

T'Lara would be officiating the ceremony and she presently took her seat behind an alter that presumably had been structured for just such an event. T'Pol and Sumarek stood an either side of her while Hoshi and Malcolm stood directly behind T'Pol. Hoshi waited nervously, as she was not yet certain exactly what this "challenge" would involve.

She was fairly certain, however, that she would not like it. She tried to shake off the bleak feeling, but found that she could not. _Maybe it has something to do with the guards,_ Hoshi contemplated. Vulcans could look pretty intimidating by themselves but the Vulcans at this ceremony took the intimidation to an entirely new level. The ten guards were decked in silver tops and black bottoms with a green sash tied around their waists. Their faces were adorned with black masks which revealed only their eyes and a minute portion of their cheeks. To Hoshi, the said masks reminded her of nineteenth century executioner hoods in the American West. _That's ridiculous,_ she chided herself. _Vulcans are pacifists. Of course, those weapons they're holding aren't doing much for their pacifist nature._

But surely, those weapons were part of the ritual alone. In a Vulcan wedding, weapons which could clearly mortally wound another would have no practical purpose. Hoshi shivered involuntarily and decided to focus her attention on the attire of T'Lara and T'Pol. Interestingly, T'Pol still wore the brown uniform she wore on the Enterprise. _A sign of defiance for a wedding she doesn't want?_ Hoshi pondered. T'Lara, on the other hand, looked positively regal in comparison in her flowing white robes.

While Hoshi surveyed the wedding party, Malcolm was sizing up his competition. He assumed T'Pol's betrothed to be the Vulcan walking towards T'Pol with his brows furrowed. Malcolm recalled reading that Vulcans were approximately twice as strong on average than the typical human. In addition, this one seemed to be a good deal taller than Malcolm. T'Lal's words rang gently in his ears: "to win the koon-ut-kalifee, one would need to be more cunning and resourceful in their fighting habits." _That is fortunate, for I would surely fail in a test of brute strength,_ Malcolm decided silently.

Presently, T'Pol's betrothed stopped in front of her. "You presume to bring humans our ceremony?" he demanded of T'Pol. To the said humans, it sounded suspiciously as though he were angry.

T'Pol, for her part, was calm. "I have brought my wedding party, as have you," she remarked, glancing behind Sopel to his two companions. Only one she recognized-Tos, her father's assistant. The irony of his presence was not lost upon T'Pol.

Naturally, it was Tos that spoke. "We are not human."

"That much is obvious," T'Pol answered.

Sopel took a step closer to T'Pol, but was blocked by one of the guards. Stepping backwards, he cautioned, "The humans' presence denigrates my family by mocking their marital lands. They will be removed."

"I have requested their presence in accordance to my right as dictated by tradition. Do you seek to remove that right and thereby further challenge tradition, as you have by revoking my right to a wedding meal, Sopel?" T'Pol questioned.

There was the briefest of pauses before Sopel spoke again. "No, of course not, T'Pol," he finally answered. "Tradition is very important to me, as you are aware. Which is the reason I cancelled your wedding meal. I do want us to begin our traditional year together immediately."

T'Pol held his gaze steadily. "Your logic is flawed. The meal is tradition as well. Regardless, if you desire such haste, then perhaps it would be wise for you to begin the ceremony." Inwardly, she willed him to hurry. A half an hour had passed since they had departed Skon's home-which meant Commander Tucker had only an hour and a half of life left.

"Ponfo mirann," Sopel answered. "It is going to be a very interesting year, T'Pol." With that, he turned and began to walk towards the emerald diamond with the intent to strike it.

Malcolm turned to Hoshi and whispered softly, "What does ponfo mirann mean?"

Hoshi flushed, remembering a time she had behaved not so professionally and snapped the same phrase to T'Pol. "It can roughly be translated to mean, 'fuck you,'" she informed Malcolm, hoping he didn't remember the exchange.

"That doesn't seem like an overly kind thing to say to your wife-to-be," he murmured.

"No, but Sopel doesn't seem overly kind, either," Hoshi answered.

Malcolm and Hoshi's conversation was interrupted by the sound of T'Pol crying out, "Kal-I-fee!" The Enterprise's former science officer stood in front of Sopel, with her hand outstretched in a perpendicular line to the green diamond.

T'Lara spoke next. "T'Pol, you have chosen the kal-i-fee; the challenge. Are you prepared to become the property of the victor?"

"I am prepared."

"Sopel, do you accept challenge according to our laws and customs?"

"I have no alternative, T'Lara," Sopel answered. "It is her right. By tradition." The distain was clear.

"T'Pol, choose your champion."

At T'Lara's order, T'Pol slowly descended the platform and began to make her way back to where Malcolm and Hoshi stood. She began to speak:

"As it was in the dawn of our days..."

T'Pol did not allow herself to think of anything outside of the sound of her voice and the sound of the Vulcan chimes being played by members of her wedding party. To allow her mind to wander and cause a collapse would not be productive.

"...as it will be for all tomorrows..."

Hoshi watched with growing fear as T'Pol came closer. She was beginning to connect what had been said in the home of Skon and what T'Lara had said to T'Pol.

"...I make my choice." Reaching the end of her speech, T'Pol lifted her hand and pointed to Malcolm. "I chose Lieutenant Reed."

"Lieutenant Reed, do you accept?" T'Lara questioned.

Malcolm nodded.

"Very well. We shall begin the challenge with the lirpa," T'Lara stated. As she spoke, one Vulcan came forth to wrap a purple sash around Sopel's waist. Malcolm wondered momentarily if he was going to receive one, and hoped it wouldn't be purple.

He did not receive a sash. However, he did receive a lirpa. Quite an interesting weapon, in his estimation. One end could be used for cutting the opponent, while the blunt end was designed to for striking purposes.

"If both survive this round, we shall move on to the ahn-woon," T'Lara stated.

Hoshi turned to T'Pol frantically. "What does she mean, if they both survive?"

"It is a challenge to the death," T'Pol answered.

"No!" Hoshi couldn't help but exclaim. "Malcolm, you can't! You aren't Vulcan. He'll...kill you."

"With your shield or on it," Malcolm answered in reply.

"Oh, you aren't a Spartan!" Hoshi snapped.

"No, I am not. I am a Starfleet officer," Malcolm responded.

"You aren't obligated by duty to participate in this challenge!" Hoshi retorted.

Malcolm gave a half quirk of a smile. "I am obligated by friendship," he answered.

Hoshi fell silent. He had reminded her what was at stake, and she could find no protest. _But, oh, be careful,_ she prayed inwardly.

Sensing their conversation to be over, T'Lara signaled for the ceremony to begin.

"A human," Sopel mocked. "This shall require no exertion on my behalf."

_Good. Stay cocky. It will provide a considerable tactical advantage,_ Malcolm thought to himself as he jumped out of the way of the blunt end of the lirpa.

Sopel was an efficient fighter as well. He easily dodged Malcolm's attempt to strike him with the lirpa.

Sopel and Malcolm danced around each other, both avoiding the other's advances for several minutes. They circled the emerald diamond twice when Malcolm realized it was time for a different tactic. _I can't survive much more of this. We aren't fighting on Earth and I can barely breathe in this climate._

Malcolm took a deep gasp of air, trying in vain to fill his lungs.

"You should not have come to our planet, human. You are not even fit to breathe the air," Sopel mocked. Sopel aimed the blunt end of the lirpa towards Malcolm's midsection, and the lieutenant hesitated long enough for it to make contact.

Malcolm laid sprawled on his back on the hot desert sand with the lirpa several paces out of reach. The sharp end of Sopel's lirpa was directly over Malcolm's head when the lieutenant's hands made contact with Sopel's knees. The force of Sopel leaning towards Malcolm enabled Reed to propel Sopel-and his lirpa-over Malcolm's body and out of harm's way.

Malcolm scrambled to get his lirpa and finish the task, but he found there to be no need. Sopel had landed on top of his own weapon and his green blood flooded the brown sand beneath him.

Still gasping for air, Malcolm silently gave thanks to T'Pol for teaching him that move only a week and a half earlier. He was also relieved that he himself would not have to drive the spear into the Vulcan.

T'Lara, descended from her seat and came to investigate Sopel's body. "He lives still," she said. "However, he has clearly lost the battle." Motioning to Tos, she instructed for the prince to be taken to a healer.

"Regardless, you have won, Lieutenant Reed. T'Pol is now yours," T'Lara stated.

"No," Malcolm shook his head. "I do not want...I release her," he said formally, hoping that T'Lal's comments had given him some clue as to how to properly release the Sub-Commander.

T'Lara's approval came in the form of a nod. "Then you are the property of no one, T'Pol. Neither Sopel nor Lieutenant Reed have any claim upon you."

"We must return to your home," T'Pol answered.

* * *

"Where are they?" Archer demanded helplessly a half an hour later as Trip convulsed on the bed. He was in restraints-supposedly for his own good, Phlox had said. But the convulsions grew more violent with each progressive second. And the cries of agony-long having lost any semblance of thought other than to express his discomfort- that came forth from Trip grew louder, more frequent, and more painful for Archer to listen to. Only he, Koss, Phlox, and Skon remained in the room. Travis simply couldn't bear to watch Trip deteriorate any further. The Ensign had decided to join V'Lar and T'Pau.

"Come on, Trip," Archer said softly, "You have to hold in there. T'Pol's coming back. She'll help you, Trip. She has too."

Trip's only reply was a blood curling scream which ended in a sob.

Archer found his own eyes welling with tears. "You can make it, Trip. Remember that time we went horseback riding in Montana and you broke your leg when you were thrown? You didn't think you would make it-remember? But I knew you could and we made it back just fine." Sniffing back his tears, Archer continued, "And Lizzie made us both the best blueberry cobbler she's ever made, she felt so bad for you."

Trip's whole body fell silent and Archer turned to Skon with impatience, "Why can't any of the rest of you do this meld? Why does it have to be T'Pol?"

"Our minds are not free to give," Skon answered.

"What the hell does that mean?" Archer demanded.

"The point is moot, as I am here now," T'Pol's voice came from the door. Behind her stood Sumarek.

"T'Pol! Thank God," Archer exclaimed.

"Yes, I am here. It would be wise of you to wait, Captain, with the rest of the crew," T'Pol informed him.

"But—"

"In addition to melding, we shall have to copulate. Unless Commander Tucker has a penchant for exhibitionism, I believe he would prefer as few witnesses as possible," T'Pol informed him.

Archer nodded his approval and turned to leave. Seeing that he was going alone, he asked, "Are you all going to stay?"

Sumarek answered, "Koss and myself must stay to observe the meld. After it is complete, we shall exit."

"I too must stay to offer assistance to T'Pol with the meld, if she requires any," Skon told him.

"But surely, Phlox—"

"I would prefer Phlox to stay, Captain," Sumarek stated. "If the meld is successful, I will need a medical doctor's proof of the change in condition."

Not wanting to dwell on the possibility that the meld could be unsuccessful, Archer turned to walk out the door. Heading into the main room of the house, he heard a very familiar voice ask, "Why has the traditional meal been cancelled? And where is my daughter?"

Archer clenched his fists at the sound of Soval's voice.


	37. Sexual Healing: Day One

T'Pol took a deep breath to steady herself. Trip's state was causing her a considerable amount of discomfort. He was restrained and incapable of communicating a lack of desire to meld, if that were his choice. T'Pol did not seek to emulate Tolaris; however, she could see parallels in the event she was about to perform. In many ways, T'Pol would be invading Trip's body in the same intimate fashion that Tolaris had violated her.

Still, she had little choice. If she did not initiate the meld, Trip would most certainly die. Indeed, he might still. T'Pol refused to think of the reasons for his current condition. Belaboring the nature of his illness would only cause extreme discomfort for T'Pol-perhaps culminating in her becoming unconscious again. That would not help Trip.

It was then with a great deal of hesitation that T'Pol placed her fingers alongside Trip's face. " Our minds, one and together," she murmured gently.

At first, there were no coherent thoughts. Only emotions flooded through Trip's thought pattern. The emotions were painful to T'Pol, and it took all of her emotional strength to prevent the discomfort from overcoming her resolve. Her Vulcan control was more powerful than she had believed, and it overcame the sensations of suffering and physical pain. //Commander Tucker,// she mentally communicated, //It is alright. I am here. Let me absorb your pain.//

There was no change in the fluidity of the emotions as they continued to flow from Trip's mental pathways and inundate T'Pol. Again, she tried, //Commander Tucker.//

T'Pol felt herself double over in pain as she felt a burst of clear sexual desire spring forth from the Commander. The desire had no target-it was pure carnal need to copulate.

"T'Pol?" Opening her eyes, she could see Skon looking at her with concern.

She shook her head, "I must try again."

Placing her fingers back onto his face, she chanted lightly, "Our minds, one and together..."

Again she was hit with the force of Trip's desire. T'Pol was prepared this time, and tried desperately not to think of her own desires. When Trip's mind produced a figment of Triaxian silk, however, T'Pol's own consciousness instantly connected the garment to a previous interaction with Commander Tucker. As a result, her own yearnings thrust their way to the surface. The ensuing discomfort again broke the connection between the two and T'Pol found herself cradling her head in pain.

"T'Pol?" Again Skon's voice was beside her.

"Perhaps we should stop?" Sumarek asked.

"No," T'Pol stated firmly. "His thoughts are making progress."

Again T'Pol's fingers found the correct points of contact. The pain behind T'Pol's eyes was excruciating and it was with great difficulty that she found the concentration to repeat, "Our minds, one and together..."

Clear images were beginning to form in Trip's thoughts. Mixed within the emotions of pain, lust, and anger were images of fire, chains, and needles. T'Pol supposed they were representatives of his pain. She lamented the necessity of the restraints. //As soon as the bond is completed, I will release you, Commander// she promised mentally.

//T'Pol?!?// Trip's mind yelled frantically.

//I am here, Commander. Concentrate on my thoughts.//

T'Pol could feel and see the pain Trip was experiencing through their meld. It was steadily increasing, which told T'Pol that they did not have much time.

//Hurts! Oh, God, T'Pol, why does it hurt so much?//

//I can help you, Commander. However, stopping the pain will require us to bond-we will be forever linked.//

Again, pain flooded through their connection. //Please make it stop, T'Pol.//

//You are comfortable with the bond?// It was essential this be of his own choice. T'Pol would not force an intimacy on another. Even if it cost both their lives.

//Ah!...I trust you. Make it stop, PLEASE.//

Trip's plea broke her resolve to make certain he understood the consequences of their meld. He needed her help. She would provide it.

//I need you to concentrate, Commander.//

//Hard...//

//I realize the difficulty. Regardless, in order to help you, you must repeat after me aloud. Do you understand?//

//No...aloud?//

//We are currently communicating by thought. I will speak. You must repeat after me.//

//Okay...try.//

"Our minds, one and together..." T'Pol repeated.

Trip's pain was doubled by his frustrated as he mentally chanted, "Our minds, one and together..."

Sumarek and Koss sat up in attention. Vulcans in the plak tow state did not speak. This human thus far had been reacting even worse than most Vulcans had to pon far. Yet now he spoke? It was nothing short of amazing.

"Touching, yet not touching," T'Pol said firmly. Trip gasped in pain and T'Pol permitted a mental wave of understanding to deluge their meld. //You must try, Commander.//

Her encouragement was enough. "Touch-ing...yet not...touching," he murmured, stumbling through the phrase.

"Apart, yet never parted," T'Pol avowed.

//Can't do it...T'Pol...too tired.//

//You are the most stubborn human I know, Commander Tucker. For once, use that stubbornness for a logical purpose.//

"Apart...never...parted," Trip repeated.

"We are one," T'Pol confirmed.

"We...are...one," Trip managed with difficulty.

T'Pol felt a sudden additional burst of pain accompanied by a blinding flash of light behind her eyes. When the flash ceased, T'Pol removed her hand from Commander Tucker's face. Although she was no longer in physical contact, she could still clearly feel the emotions emanating from Trip. The pain, the anger, the confusion, the lust. T'Pol felt his lust and was determined to return it.

Through their bond, she felt his frustration at being unable to return her touch. //Want to touch you...NOW!// his mind shouted frantically. Vocally, he was only able to gasp out a strangled cry of frustration as he jerked frantically at his restraints.

With a fluidly savage motion, T'Pol jerked away the restraints that held his hands and ankles. Her hands worked fastidiously at Commander Tucker's clothing. The Starfleet uniform was in her way and quite stubborn in its refusal to come off. Growing impatient with the zipper, T'Pol used both her hands to physically tear the offending article.

//Soon, Trip.// T'Pol promised. //Soon, you will no longer need to lust.//

She wasn't rewarded with a coherent thought, but she could feel the passion flow through his veins. With great irritation, she began to tug at the bottom of his uniform.

Skon cleared his throat. The noise did not gain a reaction from T'Pol, as she was too engrossed in her actions with Trip to pay him any heed. Indeed, it appeared that T'Pol had completely forgotten their presence altogether. However, Sumarek did turn to regard Skon.

"The bond is complete?" Sumarek inquired.

"Yes. She is sharing the symptoms of the condition," Skon replied.

"Then I suggest we exit and give them their privacy," Koss suggested.

The three of them, along with Dr. Phlox exited to allow them their due privacy. Neither Commander Tucker nor Sub-Commander T'Pol noticed.

T'Pol had freed him of his uniform and went to work on his regulation skivvies. He did not have enough strength to help her, nor to force himself into a sitting position. His hands reached in vain for her, but came back empty. Again through their bond she felt frustration-and ever increasing pain. As Trip lay naked and aroused beneath her, T'Pol stepped back to shed her own clothes.

//T'Pol!//

//I am coming, Th'yla//

//Don't...leave...//

The desperation urged T'Pol back to Tucker's bed. Knowing he was incapable of taking control, T'Pol easily and quickly straddled his prepared body. In an attempt to ease his frustration further, T'Pol leaned down and joined her lips to his. His hips thrust forward frantically and his hands roamed randomly, taking in as much of her body as possible, as they both sought to end the blood fever.

* * *

Both Trip and T'Pol were oblivious to the clamor taking place in Skon's living room.

"Skon, I am glad for your arrival," Soval stated. "Perhaps you can explain where my daughter is, why her traditional meal has been cancelled, and why your house is full of the Enterprise's crew."

"As you have come to my home, you will first share your reasoning for being here," Skon stated calmly. Archer couldn't help but feel a grudging bit of respect for the Vulcan captain. He had, after all, done the Vulcan equivalent of putting Soval in his place.

From the height of Soval's eyebrows, Archer wasn't the only one who realized Skon's admonishment. "I have recently been...released. My daughter's wedding has of course been announced. I assumed her meal would be taking place here following the ceremony, as is the custom."

"You have been released? What of your punishment?" Skon inquired.

Soval glanced at Archer before returning his gaze to Skon. "I do not feel it appropriate to discuss in front of the humans."

Archer, who had been sitting beside Malcolm as Phlox worked on his injuries, was on his feet at once to protest. Skon spoke before Archer could. "You deliberately told false information to the humans, injured a crewman, and jeopardized their mission by acting as an Ambassador in a function you were clearly not mentally fit to perform. It is not only appropriate for you to explain to them how your actions have been punished, it is essential."

Archer's jaw snapped shut in surprise. Had he been paying any attention to anything other than Soval's face, the Captain of the Enterprise would have seen a ghost of a smile cross V'Lar's face.

Soval was in no danger of smiling. "As you wish, Skon. Because of my condition, the majority of the charges were dismissed. However, my Ambassadorial privileges have been suspended."

"That does not appear to be all," Sumarek stated, looking up from a small computer terminal located close to the kitchen. "It appears there is a second clause to your release."

Skon regarded Sumarek with interest. "Indeed?"

"Yes. A formal apology to the captain and crew of the Enterprise for disrupting their mission and nearly causing a diplomatic incident." Sumarek stated.

A decided smirk graced Archer's face and he crossed his arms to wait. "Well, since we're all here, I suppose now would be as good a time as any," he told Soval.

Soval placed his hands behind his back as he turned to look at Archer. "Your pleasure in my discomfort is proof of your immaturity as a species," he stated.

Archer shrugged. "Maybe. But I didn't give the order, Soval," Archer rejoined.

Soval took a deep breath. "Very well. I wish to extend my formal apology for endangering your mission and for interrupting your attempts at diplomacy," Soval said stiffly.

Archer smiled. "Why, thank you, Soval. I appreciate a being that can be sorry for being in error," he answered, a bit too jovially.

"Being sorry is an emotion, Captain Archer," Soval began.

Happily, T'Pau interrupted the conversation. "That shall be enough, Soval. You have inquired on the whereabouts of thou's daughter. Does thee seek to have the question answered or not?"

"Of course," Soval answered.

"Sopel cancelled the wedding meal-apparently he was in great haste to return to his station. Because of the prince's haste, T'Pol chose the kalifee ritual and she is currently with her mate of choice," Skon informed the former Ambassador.

"Wait a minute-T'Pol is your daughter?" Archer exclaimed.

Soval gave him a look of disdain. "Of course she is," he answered. "It is in her personnel file, had you been efficient enough to check."

"That explains why you are constantly trying to remove her from our ship," Archer surmised. "No doubt afraid we'll contaminate her with our emotions?"

"As I recall, your Commander Tucker was trying to do just that," Soval remarked. "His lecherous attitude is something I still intend to bring to the attention of Vulcan High Command."

"Considering the fact that Commander Tucker is currently near death, it is not appropriate for you to speak of him in such a fashion," V'Lar spoke up.

"Further, I believe Vulcan High Command has more important issues to contend with than the sexual desires of either Commander Tucker or Sub-Commander T'Pol, regardless of the extent of their lecherousness," Skon said firmly.

"It is doubtful that the High Command would consider the testimony of a suspended Ambassador important, as well," Koss supplied.

Again, Archer couldn't help but stare. These weren't the type of Vulcans he was accustomed to. Where was the arrogance? The holier-than-thou attitude? Up to know, T'Pol had been the only exception to what Archer believed was the rule of Vulcan behavior. Regardless, Soval was clearly outnumbered by his peers.

"As for your second question," Skon spoke, "The humans are awaiting word on Commander Tucker's condition while he is in treatment. During their stay, they are welcome guests at my home. You are not."

"Then I shall leave," Soval answered.

After his exit, Skon turned to Captain Archer. "Captain, Commander Tucker will need to be treated for at least a week. In the meantime, if you wish for your crew to take shore leave, Shikar has excellent recreational activities."

Archer rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I think they'd appreciate that."

Travis spoke up, "I hear you have real nice mountains too."

"Yes we do. I would be willing to assist you in finding them," T'Lal spoke up.

Travis turned to look at Archer questionably. The Captain waved his arm. "Go on and go. Just be careful. I've already got three injured crewmembers. I don't want anymore."

"I will, Sir," Travis promised before ducking out the door behind T'Lal.

"Tell me, Captain, do you play chess?" Skon inquired.

"I'm not very good at it, I'm afraid," Archer replied. "Never really had the patience. Water polo's more my thing."

"You will have a sufficient wait before we can check the progress of T'Pol and Commander Tucker. Perhaps we could increase your efficiency and extend my knowledge of this 'water polo,'" Skon suggested.

Archer glanced at Phlox and asked, "Is Malcolm okay?"

The Denobulan nodded. "He pulled his hamstring," he answered, "And of course, is experiencing considerable signs of exertion. But I've administered a potent pain killer for the hamstring. A little rest should cure his other malady."

Malcolm looked up and gave Archer a grin. Raising his hand in an 'ok' gesture, the lieutenant assured him, "I'm doing A-O-K, Captain."

In spite of the grim situation, Archer chuckled softly at the effect the pain killers were having on his normally prim armory officer. "I'll take your word for it, Malcolm," he said before following Skon to his den.

Once the two were safely out of sight, T'Pau remarked, "I was unaware the Captain and Ambassador Soval were on such antagonistic terms."

"I found them to be rather similar, actually," Koss mused.

"It was certainly an interesting display of emotion," T'Lara agreed.

Malcolm raised his head from where it rested on Hoshi's shoulder. "On Earth, we call such emotions 'pissing contests.'"

The Vulcans looked at Hoshi questionably. The linguists patted Malcolm's head. "Those must have been some type of pain killers," she laughed before going on to translate to the best of her ability, what a "pissing contest" was in the Vulcans' native language.

* * *

Three hours later, T'Pol lay beside Trip, both of them completely spent. T'Pol was relatively certain that the Commander would be well. While he was still experiencing the worst of pon far, he was no longer in constant pain. His skin was still warm to the touch, but no longer painful to touch. He still burned, but he was able to complete his thoughts.

//T'Lal?// The thought was very faint, but it was there. T'Pol could not deny its existence any more than she could deny the envy it caused to course through her veins when she realized how he had come to know T'Lal.

//No, Commander. It is T'Pol// she responded.

//Can't be. T'Pol...didn't matter enough// Trip's mind responded.

T'Pol's heart truly and fully ached. Commander Tucker had just stated that his relationship with T'Lal had been more important than their relationship. T'Pol did not matter to him. Involuntarily, a picture of another tall and blond human instantly came to mind.

//'Course T'Pol matters to me-and who's this guy?// Trip wondered. //I didn't matter to her! She wouldn't come to me when I was sick. Sent some stranger in instead.//

T'Pol's hope lifted on two accounts. One, Trip was thinking in complete thoughts. Two,he thought she did not care for him, and had plainly stated that she mattered to him. She did not dwell on the emotional response she was having.

//You are mistaken, Commander. I was not aboard the Enterprise when Dr. Phlox determined the nature of your illness. If I had been, I would not have permitted T'Lal to mate with you.//

//T'Pol?//

//It is I, Commander.//

The brief elation he shared with her disappeared. //It can't be...just another one of my fantasies.//

//I assure you, I am real.//

//Nope...I've had this scenario plenty of times since I first became sick...none of them were true.//

T'Pol allowed exasperation to flood the bond. //I am not 'fantasy,' Commander Tucker.//

//Prove it.//

//You are stubborn even while facing death. How do you suggest I 'prove' it?//

//Tell me something that only the 'real' you would know.//

//That is not possible. Anything I may say that you would believe as truth would be capable of being manipulated by your thought processes into a fantasy. If I were to share heretofore unknown information, you would have no way to verify its accuracy.//

Trip mentally chuckled. //Good to see ya, T'Pol. Have I gone crazy? Why doesn't it feel like I'm talking, yet I can hear what I'm saying as well as what you're saying?//

//You are still quite mentally sound, Commander. We are sharing a Vulcan mental link called a bond.//

//How come?//

//You are still suffering the effects of pon far-T'Lal was unable to cure you. In an attempt to remedy that situation, I bonded with you. We are now linked. We now communicating through your thoughts, as you are not quite coherent enough yet to speak. No doubt your thoughts are coming from the deepest corner of your mind.//

T'Pol again felt a wave of pain course through him, and she knew it was time to mate yet again. //It is time again, Commander.//

"Trip," the man beside her managed.

//Very well, Trip,// T'Pol answered as she leaned forward to lightly caress his face. //We must mate.//

//Love it when you're so demanding, darlin'.//


	38. Purging The Fever: Day Three

Two days later, Captain Skon and Captain Archer had given up on educating one another on the benefits of chess and water polo. Instead, Archer was being given a proper tour of the Vulcan countryside. After Mayweather's enthusiastic mountain climbing expedition, Archer had come to realize that in all the many times he had visited the planet, he had failed to actually explore it. Porthos skipped along happily in front of them. As the canine lifted its leg to relieve itself, Archer had a sudden and uncomfortable flashback.

"Skon, there aren't any sacred trees around here that I need to watch out for, are there?" Archer inquired.

Skon looked at him questionably. "No. Why do you ask?"

Archer shook his head. "It's a long story. Suffice to say, I'd prefer not to piss off all of Vulcan."

Skon decided that Archer was probably not talking about he pissing contests Ensign Sato had described days earlier. "It is unlikely," the Vulcan captain answered diplomatically.

"No, but I've probably come pretty close the past couple days," Archer confessed.

Skon privately admitted that the impatient human had at times tried his patience-particularly during the first day of T'Pol's bonding with Commander Tucker. "Your concern was understandable. You were worried about a crewman of yours. Perhaps you did not realize I had a similar concern."

Archer looked at him with interest. "What do you mean?"

"Prior to her service in the Vulcan High Command, Sub-Commander T'Pol served on my crew," Skon answered. "While she has not been under my command for some time, once someone has been under your command, you will feel permanently responsible for them. Regardless of where their career will take them."

Archer was about to respond when Skon cautioned, "You should recall your canine. A sehlat is approaching."

Once Porthos was safely in his arms, Archer asked, "What is a sehlat?"

"It is much like a Terrean bear, with the addition of two sets of nine inch fangs," Skon informed him. "You may be interested in knowing that when T'Pol was a child she survived an attack by one."

That did interest Archer. "Are they normally dangerous?"

"Not all of them," Skon replied. "Most Vulcan households with children have domestic versions. However, there are wild sehlats as well."

"And T'Pol had the misfortune of tangling with a wild one?" Archer surmised.

Skon nodded. "From what she has said, she was determined to tame the sehlat. Offering a wild sehlat food from one's hand was not a wise endeavor."

"No, but it sounds like T'Pol alright," Archer laughed. "I would have liked to have seen the look on Soval's face."

"I do believe he expressed a sufficient amount of emotion that day," Skon remarked dryly. "He has been somewhat protective of her lifestyle choices from that day forward."

"Poor T'Pol," Archer shook his head. "Poor Soval."

"Indeed. Their relationship is somewhat strained," Skon agreed.

"Were you close to your own father?"

"My father was quite an inspiration," Skon replied, "His achievements were many and he was an accomplished and revered member of society."

"So...the two of you were not close?" Archer asked.

"Not particularly. It is a somewhat common occurrence on my home world," Skon admitted. "When T"Lara and I begin our family, I hope our familial relationships are less irritable. I understand you were quite close with your father?"

"Yeah," Archer agreed. "How did you know that?"

"My father often spoke of yours," Skon answered.

"Who was your father?"

"Solkar," Skon replied.

Archer stopped and stared. "Ambassador Solkar?" he asked. "As in the first Vulcan Ambassador to Earth?" When Skon nodded, Archer shook his head, "You Vulcans really ought to consider having last names. It'd make the rest of us feel a lot less foolish when we run into your family members."

"We have family names, Captain. However, I believe they would be unpronounceable by non-Vulcans," Skon answered.

* * *

_Day Four_

T'Pol lay beside Trip and watched him sleep. His condition was steadily improving. His sleep was a natural one-he slept out of necessity, not exhaustion.

Lazily, Trip opened his eyes. "Mornin', T'Pol," he greeted.

"It is afternoon," T'Pol corrected. "Approximately fifteen hundred hours."

Trip smiled. "Sorry. I've been more worried about keepin' track of the number of times we've been copulatin', ya know."

T'Pol did not appreciate the mocking tone with which he used the term "copulating."

//I'm only playing, T'Pol. No need to be...disgruntled.//

//Disgruntled is an emotion.//

//And ya gonna tell me you haven't been pretty emotional the past couple days?//

Ignoring his last mental question, T'Pol gave him a disbelieving look. "You have the specific number?" she inquired.

"Nah," Trip answered, "It wasn't for a lack of tryin.' But I figure it has to be a pretty high number. I lost track though. Probably has somethin' to do with the whole 'plak toe.' "

Humor flooded through their bond, and Trip scowled in mock frustration. "What? Did I pronounce it wrong?"

"It is the plak tow," T'Pol corrected. "For the record, we have mated forty-eight and one half times."

Trip laughed out loud at that. "T'Pol, what exactly does the 'half' mean?"

"Acts of oral sex do not constitute a full sexual act," she answered.

Again Trip laughed and leaned closer to her ear. "As I recall, T'Pol, we've committed more than one—"

"Trip, you are an engineer. Surely you understand the basic mathematical principle of two halves equaling a whole," T'Pol rebuked.

"Yeah, but I never applied it to sex before," he admitted. Involuntarily, T'Pol shivered as he reached up and caressed her earlobe.

//You know, I really like it when you call me Trip// he told her mentally.

//It is what you prefer to be called. It would be illogical to call you by another name. Even if nicknames themselves are inherently illogical.//

//Oh? I believe you have given me a nickname of your own, t'hy'la.//

//That is not a nickname. It is a Vulcan term for-//

//It's a Vulcan term for someone other than their proper name. That's a nickname, darlin'. But it's one I think I like even more than Trip.//'

//It is considerably more dignified than 'Trip.'//

T'Pol's arguing skills were lost as Trip's mouth replaced his fingers.

//Ya know, it's incredible to feel exactly what you're feelin' at the same time that I feel what I'm feelin'// Trip marveled.

//It is a consequence of the bond// T'Pol responded mentally. //And a reason I shall have to teach you shielding techniques before we leave.//

//Yeah, this could be a bit distractin' on duty.//

//Indeed.//

//Although, it certainly leaves my mouth free to do other things.//

//I would hope you would not intend to do such things as you are currently doing while on duty.//

Again humor poured through their bond. When Trip realized it was a reciprocal appreciation of humor, he again expressed wonderment. //Ya know, I really like the fact that this bond lets me know how you're really feelin' underneath that Vulcan veneer of detachment.//

//I am gratified that you find benefits to the bond.//

//Oh, it's not the only benefit, T'Pol.// Trip assured her. //But ya know, it's a pretty nice one.//

//Since you have broached the subject of 'nice' things, perhaps after this copulation you will find it 'nice' to bathe.//

"Ya sayin' I stink, t'hy'la?" Trip whispered huskily.

"Affirmative."

"Must be that superior Vulcan smell."

"Unquestionably."

"I think we should explore a different facet of Vulcan superiority," Trip suggested. T'Pol did not argue.

* * *

_Day Five_

Soval sat in his office in Vulcan High Command and waited for the call to connect. He did not wish to take the call here-after all, he assumed his wife's message would be of a personal nature. He was left little choice, however, as no Vulcan citizens had the technology for face to face calls and his wife had indicated that their conversation was urgent.

"Greetings, T'Par," Soval said when the image of his wife arrived on the screen. "What is the urgency?"

"I have been sensing a variety of things from you through our bond, Soval," T'Par responded.

"Indeed?" Soval questioned.

"You may drop the pretense, my husband. I may be light years away on Earth, but I can still tell when you are not being entirely truthful," T'Par cautioned.

"I apologize, she that is my wife," Soval offered hurriedly. "The past several weeks have been trying."

"I imagine they have been if your fluctuations have been any indication. Describe for me what has happened," T'Par instructed.

"My wife, surely this can wait. There is a matter I must attend to now. T'Pol—"

"Our daughter is well and content. I can feel as much through our bond. Any action you may take now would only disrupt her contentedness, surely. Thus, you have no reason not to share the events of the past several weeks," T'Par answered.

"T'Par, would you not prefer until you have returned to Vulcan? We would be free to discuss at our leisure—"

"Cease stalling, my husband. I have contacted you because I felt the stirrings of something dangerously close to rage flood our bond. You will provide a sufficient reason for this. As your wife, I am so entitled."

Soval stifled a sigh. "Fine." He proceeded to tell her how he had been elected as the Ambassadorial function for the peace talks with the Andorians, and how that had been jeopardized by the stirrings of his pon far.

T'Par was not pleased. "When I contacted you then, when I first felt the stirrings of the pon far-you were dishonest with me?"

Soval could not deny that. So he nodded and continued. When he reached the part about Commander Tucker, T'Par noticeably paled. After he finished his story of transference, T'Par shook her head. "Soval, you have been truly ignorant."

Soval did not hide his displeasure. "I was merely looking out for the future of both of our peoples," he said firmly.

"I suppose you believe Surak's 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few' is an accurate description of your actions?" T'Par questioned.

"Of course."

"Oh, Soval. Do you know that humans have a phrase: 'cannot see the forest for the trees?' I did not fully grasp the meaning of the phrase until now."

"I do not understand, my wife," Soval said in confusion.

"It is of little relevance. Please tell me one thing: prior to your infecting Commander Tucker, did you have any indication of his relationship with our daughter?" T'Par questioned.

Soval bristled. "No. However, it is clearly an inappropriate—"

"She has affection for him," T'Par interrupted.

"T'Pol has told you this?" Soval asked incredulously.

"Not directly. However, he has been mentioned quite profusely in her letters and communications home," T'Par answered. "Much more so than anyone else. Continue your tale, Soval."

Soval continued, bringing it up to the present. Tos had informed him of the kalifee ritual, the human's involvement and reported that T'Pol had not gone back with any other Vulcan. Soval had surmised that the "mate of her choice" had in fact been Commander Tucker.

"When I contacted you, you were planning on interrupting them?" T'Par demanded of her husband.

"Certainly. It is inappropriate—"

"You will leave our daughter alone, Soval. She is repairing your damage and in the process is quite content. I have not felt such contentedness in some time from T'Pol. You will not jeopardize that, is that clear, my husband?" T'Par commanded.

"I should permit them to continue their relationship? At the rate that our daughter insists on rejecting Vulcan mates, she may well decide to bond permanently with the human," Soval snapped in irritation.

"What makes you think she has not already?" T'Par questioned. "If what Tos has said is true, then T'Pol used the kalifee before she could bond with Sopel. Since she told you she needed to meld in order to survive, then it is likely she has taken a second partner. The most likely candidate for that position would be Commander Tucker."

Soval paled considerably. "No!"

T'Par remained calm. "You betray emotion, my husband. There are many worse choices T'Pol could have chosen as her mate instead of Commander Tucker."

"I do not see what could be worse than a human," Soval retorted.

"Perhaps a Vulcan unwilling to be flexible or unappreciative of our daughter's accomplishments? Or perhaps one which would not demonstrate the proper amount of affection?" T'Par offered. "T'Pol is an extraordinary Vulcan, my husband. She will need an extraordinary mate."

"If she were more disciplined, she would not need such an extraordinary mate," Soval answered.

Ignoring a familiar argument, T'Par answered, "T'Pol once relayed an incident in which Commander Tucker believed loyalty to be an 'emotion.' Do you agree with that sentiment, my husband?"

"No. The human is clearly foolish. Loyalty is necessary for interpersonal relationships and governmental productiveness," Soval answered.

"Then since you do not believe it to be an emotion, perhaps you could demonstrate a bit more loyalty to your family than you have heretofore," T'Par offered before severing the connection.

* * *

_Day Seven_

After being thoroughly checked by both Dr. Phlox and a visiting Vulcan doctor, Trip had been given a clean bill of health and was currently bathing yet again in the sonic shower of Skon's home.

T'Pol meanwhile was taking advantage of the opportunity to indulge in T'Lara's plomeek stew. While the Enterprise's chef made gallant efforts to prepare adequate Vulcan meals, they rarely tasted quite right. She was savoring traditional Vulcan stew-with just an additional hint of pepper. It was while she was appreciating the stew that she heard T'Pau's familiar voice speaking to Skon and V'Lar. Although T'Pol did not intend to ease drop, her naturally astute Vulcan hearing picked up on their voices.

"T'Pol has demonstrated considerable emotional side effects with the bond," T'Pau stated.

"That was only to be expected," Skon answered, "given the nature of the human's condition."

"Yet the human's condition has been alleviated and still she demonstrates emotion," T'Pau remarked disdainfully. "Only this morning she demonstrated open affection during the human's physical. Such a display is unseemly for Vulcans."

"I believe it has little to do with the bond," V'Lar spoke up. "Commander Tucker is a human and as such, a naturally emotionally intense species. The very nature of their interpersonal relationship requires some compromise on both their behalves."

"She would compromise her Vulcan heritage?" T'Pau questioned.

T'Pol did not hear what was said by Skon or V'Lar following that question. T'Pau's comment mentally froze the science officer. She had been so consumed by the quest to save Trip's life that she had not had time to reflect accurately on her own behavior. As she sat in the kitchen dwelling over her actions during the past week, she realized the accuracy of T'Pau's statement.

Undoubtedly, her relationship with Trip brought her great pleasure. But T'Pol was determined to remain true to her Vulcan heritage. There may not have been a way to severe the bond, but shields could be put in place and physical contact could be avoided. T'Pol was certain that would help to alleviate the emotional lapses.

So caught up in her thoughts was T'Pol that she did not hear Trip enter the kitchen as well. "T'Pol?" he questioned, concerned.

Startled, T'Pol jumped. Mentally she scolded herself and took her lack of preparedness as yet another sign T'Pau had been correct.

"I'm sorry," Trip said immediately. "I didn't mean to frighten ya."

T'Pol bristled. "I am a Vulcan, Commander. I do not frighten."

Trip gave her a doubtful look. "I think we're a little past the 'Commander' title now, T'Pol. And the line about Vulcans not feelin' isn't really gonna work anymore. I know better now." He leaned forward to gently caress her cheek, but she jerked away.

Trip tried to squelch the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. The same T'Pol who had so lovingly caressed his fingers earlier that morning was acting like an entirely different person. "T'Pol, what's the matter? I know something's wrong-you've put up those shields and I can't feel anything from you."

The feeling did not go away when she spoke. "As you have recovered, there is no reason for me not to call you Commander," T'Pol said firmly. "Our sexual relationship is over and we shall need to rely on titles to fall back into our former roles."

Trip stared at her. "Just like that?" he asked in disbelief. "We shared a week of love makin' and—"

"We shared sexual intercourse," T'Pol interrupted. "Any other term is a human attempt to attach feeling to an act that should have a purely procreational purpose."

Trip was steadily growing from confused to angry. "Look, I don't know what's gotten into ya, but in case you've forgotten, this bond let me see inside your head. I know what you were feelin', T'Pol. And don't tell me that ya didn't feel anything, because that isn't true."

T'Pol shook her head. "I do not deny having experienced them. I will prevent myself from experiencing them in the future."

T'Pol's shields may have been up, but Trip's were not. She felt the waves of conflicting emotions-hurt, confusion, anger, and sadness wash over him. "Why?" was all he could manage to choke out. T'Pol turned away from him, determined to remain in control but uncertain she could do so if she continued to take in his heartbroken expression.

"I am Vulcan," she answered softly. "You make me...feel...our relationship threatens to undue a lifetime of my heritage. I cannot permit that."

"T'Pol—"

"I suggest you go, Commander Tucker. Captain Archer will most likely be waiting at the rendezvous point. I shall be along shortly."

"Fine," Trip snapped and turned as though he were going to leave. Then he stopped and turned around to look at her. "I wouldn't ask you to change, T'Pol. I startin' carin' for you long before you ever showed any trace of emotion."

"That was foolish of you," T'Pol answered softly. Again, she felt the pain her words caused him. Then the shields went up on his end.

"Yeah, I guess it was," he answered. He again turned to leave. This time, he did not turn around. On his way out, he nearly ran into Soval, who was waiting in the living room of the house.

"Commander Tucker," Soval greeted. "I trust you are well?"

Trip snorted. "I'm not in any danger of dyin', Soval. Not anymore."

Soval arched an eyebrow. "I am pleased to hear that. You no doubt know of my involvement in your illness."

Trip shrugged. "T'Pol told me," he answered.

"I see. I wish to apologize, Commander—"

"Save it, Soval. I know how crazy the condition makes you. It makes you do some...foolish things," Trip said. "Don't worry about it-not that ya would, of course, bein' a Vulcan and all." With that, Trip abruptly continued on his way.

"Forgive me, T'Pol, but I did not intend to ease drop," Soval told her as he stepped inside the kitchen a moment later.

T'Pol sat on the kitchen chair with her eyes closed, fighting for control. "I assume you managed to do so, however," she remarked.

"Indeed," Soval answered.

"Then you will no doubt be pleased to know that my 'inappropriate' relationship is over. You were quite correct in your concern. I should have paid closer attention to your warnings," T'Pol remarked.

Soval hesitated momentarily. "Perhaps I was. Perhaps I was wrong. Time shall decide which is true."

T'Pol glanced up at that. It was then that she noticed he held two wrapped packages. "Gifts?" she inquired.

"Yes. One is from your mother, the other from Koss," Soval answered, setting them down on the table in front of her.

"You have talked to mother?" T'Pol asked. "Is she well?"

"Indeed. She was well enough to reprimand my recent decisions," Soval answered.

"It is unfortunate that I was not privy to that conversation," T'Pol remarked. "It must have been intriguing."

"It was," Soval agreed. "You mother is an intriguing Vulcan, T'Pol. She is also quite the loyal mate."

T'Pol looked at him askance. "Loyal enough to disagree with you?" she questioned.

"Yes, T'Pol. The best mate will both stand by you and challenge you. In so doing, the couple grows together. It is my wish that you shall find one such mate during your life," Soval answered.

T'Pol had not expected that. "Thank you for the advice, father," she said finally. It was faulty advice, she decided. Commander Tucker frequently challenged her, but there could be no growth together. Only regression.

"I know you must be on your way, T'Pol. Will you see that your Captain receives this?" Soval asked, handing her a PADD.

"What is it?" T'Pol asked, taking it from him.

"It is my formal apology to his crew. I realized, with Skon's help, that I only apologized to five members of the Enterprise's complement. I wish to rectify that," Soval answered.

"I will see that he receives it," T'Pol promised.

"It is appreciated, my daughter," Soval said sincerely.

Rising, T'Pol took her gifts and Soval's apology in her left arm and held up her right hand. "Live long and prosper, father."

"Live long and prosper, T'Pol."

On the shuttle's way back to the Enterprise, during which time T'Pol was confronted by the icy coldness of Trip's shields where there had once been a warm bond between them, T'Pol wondered if she would be able to do either.


	39. Epilogue: Yet Never Parted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...even the most threatening of situations are not always as dangerous as you may first perceive them."

Following her first full shift on the Enterprise in over a week, T'Pol returned to her quarters at twenty-two hundred hours. After missing two weeks, it seemed that the science department had grown considerably lax in her absence and T'Pol was determined to regain the efficiency since lost.

As she checked the duty rosters for the next day, her glance fell upon the two gifts sitting on her desk beside her, still untouched. In her haste to regain the normalcy of her life on the Enterprise following the pon far fiasco, T'Pol had left the gifts unopened and given them little thought for the past two days.

Still, it was illogical to post-pone the inevitable. With that thought in mind, she turned off her computer terminal and picked up the first present from Koss. In the time since the discovery of his betrayal, T'Pol had come to realize the reasoning behind his actions. As he had been attempting to help the revolution along, T'Pol found that there was no reason to continue to distrust him. He along with Sumarek and Skon were scheduled to give testimony at the Vulcan Security Council regarding the potential medical benefits of melding.

Unwrapping the gift, she found first a small data PADD. Opening the message, she read:

* * *

T'Pol,

We did not part on the best of terms. Regardless, I hope you can come to understand the reasoning for my actions and the necessity of the betrayal. I can offer in my defense only that I omitted crucial truths, but never lied to you. May the gift enclosed within be proof of that. I also find that the gift has a considerable calming affect, comparable to that of meditation.

Live long and prosper in your endeavors,

Koss.

* * *

Permitting her curiosity to get the better of her, T'Pol continued to unwrap the present. A puzzle. He had given her a puzzle. T'Pol indulged in a memory.

* * *

"The revolution will be a peaceful one?" T'Pol asked.

"I am certain of it," Koss replied.

"Then I will take pleasure in seeing it succeed. I must admit, however, that I would not have thought you would have been amongst those in the revolution," T'Pol said honestly.

"Because of my parents?" Koss wondered.

"Parents do tend to dictate their children's behavior," she answered.

"Did yours?"

"My father and I have opposing conceptions of reality."

"When I was a child," Koss began, "My parents purchased a Terran puzzle depicting an aquatic scene. It was composed of 10,000 pieces but my father was under the impression it would be quite simple because it was a human creation. Surely such a nave species was incapable of composing a puzzle that would be a challenge to a Vulcan. As I was a child, I immediately spied the brightest piece-a brilliant shade of red that closely resembles our sky during noon of a summer day. I began to try to place the piece where I believed its proper place was. My father promptly removed it. He contented there was no logic in placing a bright red piece amidst all of the blue. It was not until all of the other pieces were in their proper places that he conceded to having no other choice. The piece that had gained so much of my attention was a sample of colorful flora."

* * *

Koss' gift was a Terrean puzzle of an aquatic scene. The cover of the puzzle box was worn with age. Illogically, T'Pol opened the box and ruffled through the pieces. Most indeed were contrasting shades of blues and greens. Near the bottom of the pile, however, was a brilliantly red piece which stood out against the others and caught T'Pol's eye the moment it was uncovered. Irrationally, T'Pol grasped the piece and held it close to her.

* * *

T'Pol looked at Koss questionably. "Humans are not logical. I doubt they frequently employ the use of logic in constructions of their puzzles."

Koss gave the non-smile again. "Our people's relationship with humans has needed someone who understood that, T'Pol. It is why your mission has been successful."

* * *

Shaking herself from her trance, T'Pol placed the offending flora back in the box and resealed the container. Taking two steady breaths to calm herself, she moved on to her mother's present. When the layers had been unraveled, T'Pol stared in amazement at the offending present.

A stuffed sehlat.

The offending animal was approximately nine inches long and held within its grasp a data PADD. T'Pol hesitated, but finally agreed to read the contents.

* * *

My daughter,

Your father has appraised me of your current situation. While Commander Tucker no doubt brings you a great deal of pleasure, I foresee difficulty in the times ahead. You may at times experience sensations suspiciously close to frustration. This gift is to remind you that even the most threatening of situations are not always as dangerous as you may first perceive them.

T'Para

* * *

Technically, there was no difficulty in T'Pol's relationship with Commander Tucker at present. Of course, that was due only to the unfortunate fact that they appeared to no longer have a relationship. To his credit, the Commander was being the consummate professional-he had not once addressed her as anything but "Sub-Commander" in the past two days. For a man that had insisted on calling her by her name during the previous two years, it showed considerable constraint. He was also very adept at keeping up his shields. As T'Pol utilized hers as well, neither experienced the loneliness or pain the other felt at the return to their old routine. Unquestionably, however, they both noticed the presence of the shields and neither could help but wonder how much time would have to pass before the very presence of their shields would cease to be an uncomfortable reminder of what they had once shared-and what they could well continue to share, if only T'Pol had not insisted upon terminating their relationship.

Gazing at the stuffed sehlat, T'Pol remembered her vow to end the relationship with Commander Tucker. The decision to curb any potentially negative side effects of her relationship with Trip had been a hasty one, T'Pol realized. Again, T'Pol read her mother's note: "...even the most threatening of situations are not always as dangerous as you may first perceive them."

But then again, what could be more dangerous to a Vulcan than a loss of control? _But do not all Vulcans lose control during the time of pon far? Had you not only just purged the fever when you reacted to T'Pau's comments?_

The answer to both of those questions was yes.

_The sehlat even resembles the Commander slightly,_ T'Pol mused. Its fur was nearly the same shade as the darkest of Commander Tucker's follicles.

This train of thought was undeniably unproductive, T'Pol decided. She had made her decision and it was a wise one. She could not allow a relationship with Commander Tucker to develop.

Rising, she went to her bookshelf and withdrew a copy of The Sayings of Surak. She was certain she would find justification for her actions within the book. Allowing the book to fall open on its own, the first passage she came to was "we have differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us."

T'Pol startled. _If I believed in fate, I would be certain it was against me tonight,_ T'Pol noted. She pushed the thought away. Surak had not been referring to her relationship with Commander Tucker.

For surely Surak would have known that intimacy with the irrational engineer would only lead to a loss of control. T'Pol turned the page and continued to read. "Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear."

T'Pol slowly closed the book and set it back on the shelf. Fear. Was that not the emotion she was currently hiding behind? Fear of losing control? Fear of change? Fear of the unknown?

The irony of the situation was not lost to T'Pol. She had ended her relationship with Commander Tucker in order to prevent becoming emotional and in doing so hid behind one of the strongest emotions that existed.

* * *

Trip scowled at the computer terminal in front of him. Like T'Pol, he had discovered that his department had experienced a serious decline in the efficiency rating. In fact, the only area that didn't need at least a twenty percent increase was the plasma conduits. Trip was somewhat surprised to discover that those had been receiving a steady cleaning by Ensign Connelly for the past two weeks.

_Hmm. Connelly's not my department. She's in the armory,_ Trip noted to himself. Using the comm, Trip hailed Malcolm.

"Yes, Trip, what can I do for you?" the lieutenant asked.

"Hey, Malcolm, I was checking over engineering's duty roster for the past couple weeks and I noticed you assigned Connelly to scrubbin' the plasma conduits."

"That's correct," Malcolm replied.

"Well, how come?"

"Because I outrank Lieutenant Hess," Malcolm answered.

"Haha, Malcolm. I meant what'd she do to warrant three weeks of scrubbin' conduits?" Trip questioned.

There was a pause and Trip could tell that Malcolm truly did not want to share. Well, that was too bad. Trip couldn't have people in his department that were trouble makers. "Consider that an order, Lieutenant."

"Very well, Commander. Ensign Connelly was in charge of guarding you while you were in the brig and...well, she did not behave in a professional manner," Malcolm finished.

Trip smiled in spite of himself. "So you gave her three weeks of scrubbin' plasma conduits because she was pickin' on me? Really, Malcolm, I appreciate the sentiment, but—"

"No, Commander. I didn't punish her for 'picking' on you," Malcolm interrupted. "If you would like, I will show you the security camera video feed."

"That sounds nice, Malcolm," Trip agreed, feeling suspicious. "Why don't you bring it on over?"

There was a pause before Malcolm answered. "Now, Commander?"

"Well, it can wait, I guess, if you're busy," Trip replied.

"I'm a bit preoccupied. Perhaps I could show you in the morning?" Malcolm offered.

"Workin' on some new tactical maneuvers?" Trip questioned. Distinctly, the engineer heard the softest giggle in the background. And it certainly didn't come from Malcolm.

"Er...yes, Commander. Very delicate tactical maneuvers," Malcolm responded.

"I understand ya, Lieutenant. See ya tomorrow."

As he ended the connection, Trip couldn't shake the feeling of jealously knowing very well what type of maneuvers Malcolm was up to. Before he could dwell long on the thought, his door chimed.

"Come," he called. When T'Pol walked in, he had to remind himself to breathe.

"Charles," she greeted. "Am I disturbing you?"

It wasn't "Trip", but Charles was a hell of a lot less formal than "Commander Tucker." Still, Trip was determined not to let himself get his hopes up. "No, Sub-Commander. What can I help you with?"

T'Pol appeared to take a deep breathe before answering. "I wish...do you still desire to attempt a relationship with me?"

Trip stared at her in amazement. "I thought you didn't want that. Thought I was too emotional for ya."

T'Pol shook her head. "I...was hasty in my judgment," she answered.

"Oh, well, that makes it all better," Trip retorted.

Human sarcasm was not a method in which T'Pol was skilled. Still, she could sense that all was not well with Commander Tucker. "You wish for me to leave?" she asked.

"Depends. What type of meaningless sex act do ya feel like performin' tonight?" Trip snapped. It was going too far, but in his anger, Trip couldn't see that.

T'Pol straightened. "I apologize for interrupting your recreational time, Commander. Good evening." She turned to go and it was only then that Trip noticed she had been holding a container during the entire exchange.

"T'Pol-wait," Trip called to her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"It is understandable. I caused you sufficient pain. You do wish to engage in a relationship with someone you cannot trust. I can appreciate that, Commander," T'Pol said stiffly.

"For Pete's sake, T'Pol, don't revert back to Commander. I was real fond of 'Trip,' but 'Charles' will do. And I trust ya with my life," Trip told her. Then he chuckled softly. "After all, ya saved it."

T'Pol bristled. "You are not obligated to me," she replied.

Trip sighed and ran his hands through his hair in great frustration. "I didn't mean it like that! Damnit, you can be so frustratin'."

"You are equally exasperating," T'Pol rejoined.

"Two equally stubborn people in a relationship," Trip mused. "It's probably destined to fail."

"Perhaps," T'Pol admonished. "However, as Surak would say, we must cast our fear before there is room for anything else."

Trip smiled. It was, T'Pol reflected, a most aesthetically pleasing sight. "So, step one is we toss out the fear. What's step two?"

T'Pol offered him the container. "I thought we should construct this puzzle together," she suggested.

"A puzzle?" Trip questioned.

"Will you not find it to be an enjoyable activity?" T'Pol pondered.

"Sure. I like puzzles-I always have. But um, that's not exactly what most couples do on their first date," Trip explained.

"No," T'Pol agreed. "However, we are not most couples."

Trip chuckled softly. "No, we certainly aren't."

"Besides, this puzzle has special meaning," T'Pol added.

"Alright, I'm game," Trip said as he plopped himself down on the floor.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, but sat down beside him. She regarded him for a moment before suggesting, "Perhaps we could drop the shields for the occasion."

Trip pursed his lips. "I don't know...wouldn't droppin' our shields kinda be like goin' into battle with the hull plating bein' offline?"

T'Pol nodded. "It would be an apt analogy. However, we did agree to cast our fears aside," she reminded him.

Trip laughed. "Alright, you win."

Trip dropped his shields and T'Pol dropped hers. For a moment the two simply basked in the sensation of their bond. Finally T'Pol interrupted. "We should begin the construction," she said.

"Okay. What's the final picture supposed to look like?" Trip asked.

Through their bond, Trip felt T'Pol's mirth. "You shall know the answer to that question once the puzzle is constructed."

"Well, how am I supposed to know how to connect the pieces if I don't know what the finished product is supposed to be?" Trip countered.

"Perhaps by employing simple skills of logical deduction to determine where the pieces should be placed," T'Pol answered.

"Yeah...along with some good old fashioned trial and error," Trip rejoined. "So is there a reason you picked this specific puzzle?" "Yes. It is most appropriate for our situation," T'Pol answered.

"How come?"

"I will tell you when we are finished."

"Why are ya makin' me wait for everything? I have to wait to hear the story. I have to wait to see what we're makin'." "Patience is a virtue, t'hy'la."

"That I don't happen to possess."

"Your wait shall be significantly shorter if we begin soon."

The two lapsed into an amicable silence as they began their project.


End file.
